


If I Cannot Bend Heaven

by Soggy_Bottom_Boys



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Holocrons (Star Wars), Meta, SciFi whodunnit, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soggy_Bottom_Boys/pseuds/Soggy_Bottom_Boys
Summary: A reimagining of kotor 2 with a few backstories. Prologue chapters mostly deal with a younger Arren Kae as she begins to find failings in the Jedi Order. Meanwhile, strange dreams lead her to equally strange occurrences in the galaxy, and she attempts to unravel a convoluted mystery. There will also be a few glimpses into the lives of young Revan, Alek and the Exile.Their paths will ultimately intertwine, leading up to (mostly) familiar in-game events.Rating bumped up to M for graphic violence and sexual scenes. Frequent adventure, occasional angst, sporadic fluff inside.(Can't take credit for the title - technically, I think it originated from Virgil, a 1st century poet from Rome. Was inspired by an illustration of Revan I saw ages ago when he realized that the Jedi refused his petitions to help the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars. Unfortunately, it's been circulated so much that I don't remember who the original artist was. If you do, please let me know!)
Relationships: Arren Kae/Yusanis (Star Wars), Female Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand, Female Jedi Exile/Katsushiro(OC), The Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand
Comments: 18
Kudos: 9





	1. Arren

_When she fell into the abyss, losing control of self, down and down along the blinding nothing, she emerged blinking in the face of a powerful light. A few moments passed until she was finally attune to it and recognized two brilliant orbs in the sky. With that, more of her senses were revived. A hot, course wind raked its nails against her cheek. It swept up against and under the people around her, causing ponchos – a combination of cotton and a roughspun weave; she knew this without touch – to billow and ripple in answer._

_A few voices grew louder. Most lacked a sense of urgency although some started packing items away. Vegetables and fruit, dried meats, and foreign “delicacies” were the first to disappear. Then came the folding of stalls into compact mobile crates that were accustomed to this nomadic lifestyle._

_“A storm’s coming, Ani,” came an older voice._

_The Force was strong there. Its eddies were at variance with one another, however. One coursed steadily over bumps and around obstacles, never quite losing its way. The second sped energetically about, drawn towards distractions; enamored by them. But of the two, its undercurrent was more powerful, more determined, more **willful**._

_"_ _You’d better get indoors.”_

_The woman’s blue eyes absorbed only them. Everything else fell away into an irrelevant backdrop. A young boy, a girl no more than fifteen, a man, a Gungan and a blue and white astromech droid of a design she’d never noticed before. She squinted in the sunlight knowing full well that they could not see her; would never see her._

_She approached them with mild trepidation. The man was a Jedi, the heraldry of a visible lightsaber unnecessary to gather that much. But the boy was no Padawan. Just a scrawny, blond little pup, full of life and potential. And love. He would love until it hurt and then afterwards she wondered –_

_A sudden gust of wind almost knocked her off balance. But she was a Jedi, and in a split second she had regained her footing, moderately vexed at the interruption._

_And then the suns had vanished behind gathering clouds. Its diluted rays bathed them all in an eerie orange glow and abruptly the other woman, her weathered features now not more than two feet away, set imploring eyes on her. She was small in stature, accentuated by hunched shoulders, benign and harmless._

_But never before – not in her ruminations, nor dreams, nor visions – had Arren Kae been acknowledged by anyone, unless she allowed it. Of course it was possible that she did not truly see her, that she was looking intently past her...but now they were out of the bustle of the marketplace and within a spartan homestead, standing to the side of the same party of people plus one more, eating. The boy flew questions towards the Jedi; curious and relentless. He fielded them with amusement and a nuanced diplomacy – never quite giving much away._

_Kae cast a measured gaze back on the old woman. “Why have you brought me here?”_

_“A storm’s coming.”_

_“And I take it that it begins here? In this home, at this very table?”_

_“You could say that it began with her,” she replied, oblivious to any implied sarcasm and pointed to a middle-aged woman, brown hair tied back, also seated with the rest of the group. She wore a kindly expression, but slight creases within and without belied an unease that she nor Kae could gauge._

_“She’s lived here with her son for so long now – the pair of them tied to a life of servitude. Her. And him against the world. She has passed on a rare gift to him. It could be his undoing in time, but it’s served him well so far.”_

_“The gift of perception.” Kae nods. “He sees things before they happen; it’s a Jedi trait.”_

_But the woman ignores her, her eyes keenly focused on the mother.“She wonders what the coming of these strangers means. Certainly not a selfish happiness. But perhaps a selfless one. Perhaps the price for a better future would rob them of each other.”_

_“Why is the Jedi here?” asked Kae. “To take the boy as his Padawan?”_

_“Would **you** train the boy? Would you train him if you were in his place?”_

_Arren Kae’s jaw stiffened. To answer a question with a question was the hallmark of many Jedi Masters. Save for herself. But she had to move forward; she had to play along. “Probably. I...yes. He’s strong in the Force. Very strong. His powers would manifest as he gets older and much better to run into a Jedi now rather than a Sith later.”_

_“Why? Why either of those things? Why not remain here with one who carried him, who gave birth to him? Who **loves** him?”_

_Kae’s thoughts snagged onto this truth. Others would have struggled, broken free, torn their garments if they had to and returned to a scoliotic embrace. “I don’t have any answers for what you ask. Or is your question merely rhetorical? I mean no offense, I admit to curiousity. There is always more to learn.”_

_“Good. The Jedi haven’t yet extinguished you completely.” The old woman redirected her attention to the others and Kae followed suit. “Is it love or passion that the son feels for his mother?”_

_Kae did not need to study their behaviour. Her instincts had been honed to so fine a point that their emotions came as effortlessly to her as listening to a cherished tune. “Love.”_

_And then, relying on her strength of prognostication, Kae spoke before the other could. “And this love will lead to his downfall. Are you here to validate the teachings of the Jedi or...?”_

_“You are not wrong. He will do much good to others; he will be a credit to your Order. But it won’t be enough. So you are also not right.”_

_“What has... **does** he do? Later?”_

_“He will bring balance to the Force. He is the chosen one.”_

_Kae’s eyes widened slightly. “He destroys the Sith?”_

_“No. He brings balance. And he will serve as an example to a greater evil.”_

_“I don’t understand. The Jedi prophesy that the chosen one –”_

_“It is not a Jedi prophecy!”_

_“Please. I don’t understand. Open my eyes. Show me the truth.”_

_Several gusts of wind circled them, each waxing stronger than the last until Kae had to shut her eyes to its frenzy._

_“Move forward. One foot in front of the other. Towards me.”_

_Arren Kae did as she was told and followed the call of her voice. It had changed – by a fraction, and no more – but it had changed nevertheless. The howling wind had finally quieted to timid whistles. She was barefoot now, the soles of her feet grazing a familiar marble – its patterns distinct and knowable, even without having to see. Opening her eyes proved her correct. She was inside the Temple on Coruscant again!_

_Sunlight streamed through sloped windows that presented her with a view she’d never quite appreciated before. Perhaps it was because all space inside no longer had room for innocent ruminations and permitted no return to childlike wonder. But here, she was not entirely constrained by adherence to dogma or the boundaries of time. Moving towards the window, she pressed palms against its sill and leaned forward. Speeders – following invisible but very-much-there paths thanks to repulsorlift technology - flew to and fro, metal and glass reflecting beams of light in all directions. People going about their day, drawn by their own compulsions of duty or lack thereof. Ahead in the distance, attached to a compound she did not recognize ( **what year was this?** ), the lights of a landing pad blinked futilely in the full blast of the sun as it stood ready to receive a transport of passengers._

_And then at the corner of her hearing, well behind her scope of vision, a boy sucked in a brief, desperate breath followed by a wounded cry. Spinning around, she approached the slouched figure. He, attired in austere Jedi browns, whites and greys, sat in stark contrast to the well-furnished vestibule that boasted a certain spartan opulence. He’d stopped whimpering, but trickles still ran down his face, pooling at his chin before coming to rest on the floor beneath him._

_This time, knowing full well who he was despite the molding of time, she allowed him to see her._

_He didn’t startle easy. “Am I still dreaming?” he asked._

_Perceiving that the truth may do more damage than an outright lie, she settled for a thinly veiled version of the two. “Yes, and no. You’ve had visions before, yes? This is simply one of them.”_

_He didn’t have the time for childlike curiousity. “Is my mom alright?”_

_“I don’t know, child. Why? Do you sense that she is in danger?”_

_“I dreamed it. But it’s not an ordinary dream. She was hurt and her face was cut.”_

_“Did you go to your Master and tell him this?”_

_He nodded and his eyes shifted down. “I had to. He found the credits I was saving.”_

_“Saving to...?” It came to her then. The Jedi had taken him, **just** him. Then they had left the mother, **just** her, to her own fate. No doubt this was done willingly, and perhaps even with the mother’s blessing. Maybe circumstances had turned cruel and they hadn’t much of a choice, but everything has its price and now it seemed that the child had to pay it. But not without doing everything in his power to stop it. To keep her safe._

_“How much would you have to save to free her?”_

_“A class three slave costs around four-thousand credits. I’ve only got a couple hundred. And now that’s gone too. Because Jedi aren’t allowed to have any possessions.”_

_And Jedi aren’t allowed attachments. Better for them that the mother die, better that she be forgotten. She started towards banality, but quickly thought better of it. He deserved the truth. She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Even if you appeal to their sense of duty, they’ll tell you they can’t save everyone in the galaxy and that even if that were possible, it would cause too much damage to the Force itself. They’ll say that if it is the Force’s will that she die, then you must train yourself to let go.”_

_“I tried, Master. I tried so hard, only...”_

_“...Only she’s too much a part of you now. And the Jedi are not equipped to deal with anomalies, are they?”_

_The boy said nothing._

_“Life itself is an anomaly. The Force doesn’t align with the darkness, or the light, for that matter. And neither side comprehends it fully despite claims to the contrary.” She stepped back. “We learn to fear, to hate what we don’t understand. Sometimes we fight back and sometimes we run from it. The Jedi have been running from this for millennia and this is why they will always fail.”_

_“Do you think they’ll help her? If you’re on the Council,” he began._

_“But I’m not. Is there no one you can appeal to?”_

_“My Master. Sometimes I think he doesn’t listen. But he’s in there right now. He had to tell them about the money and he promised that even if I never saw her again, he’ll find a way to see that she’s alright.”_

**_And if he doesn’t_ ** _, wondered Kae?_

_“If he doesn’t, and she...If it happens, I won’t forgive myself ever. And I won’t forgive them. The Force warned me. Why would it warn me if it didn’t want me to do anything to protect her?”_

_“A valid point indeed,” came the other voice. The older woman again, but this time, taller with a straighter posture. A brown hood veiled her eyes. Two silver braids of hair framed a pale narrow jaw that tapered into a weather chin._

_All was silent. The vestibule, now empty save for the pair of them, stood as if the child had never even been there._

_“How far is he wiling to go to meet this destiny and prevent it?” the woman asked Kae. “He will remember this moment, where the Jedi trivialize his premonitions, and in turn trivialize him. He’ll remember how, instead of helping him, they drowned him in their creed. He will remember this abandonment and will twist it to resemble betrayal. He’ll need this later, to help him do what must be done.”_

_“And what would that be?” asked Kae._

_“Why, end the Jedi, of course.”_

_And like many of her predecessors she reached out instinctively for her lightsaber. But they were in another realm now. One where that particular nature of combat was unnecessary and, therefore, neither was her blade. “You’re Sith.”_

_The woman’s face remained imperceptible. “I am not. And you know it.”_

_She went on. “I am here to show you cracks in the foundation. Cracks that have grown into chasms. In both the Jedi and the Sith. The best way to sow the seeds of change is to educate others to the fissures and follow them to its root. How strong are your ideals really, if you do not test them? If a muscle is never exercised, never pushed up against a force that opposes it, does it not wither away?”_

_“But the Sith embrace conflict.”_

_“No, no. Nature, the very essence of evolving life, is what embraces conflict to overcome challenges and come out all the stronger. If they do not, they either remain stagnant, or they die. But the **Sith** ,” she let out a scornful jeer, “They merely **claim** to do the same. All the while, clambering over one another, destroying everything in their path, to reach a summit that will grant them nothing. Because in the end, in attempting to enslave the Force, to use it to fulfill the self alone, it has consumed them. Until they forget what it was they were fighting for in the first place, and they are masters of a barren wasteland.”_

_Kae’s heartbeat quickened until she could feel it in her throat, each pulse a little stronger than the last. She knows that voice. Not in terms of hearing, or from the past. She knows it because it is a complement of conjectures of her own. And she is aware of it in the deepest sense, because she has asked the same questions and has meditated on the same answers. Except that orthodoxy had taught her that these contemplations were dangerous, and that they were but temptations of the dark side. Now to hear them voiced out aloud has carried her across a threshold and a point of no return._

_“Then...it is a good thing to destroy both entirely? To kill them and begin anew?” She shook her head. “No. I cannot accept it. Because people like him, children like him, pay the greatest price. And I will not be party to it. Suffering begets more suffering; it is an impossible solution.”_

_“Good. Then you do at least understand that. The answers you seek; I cannot give them to you as the Jedi and the Sith do. But you will ask the right questions and you will walk the right paths so that the answer is ingrained in you, carved into your soul such that the scars will never disappear. The only way out is through. Now.” The woman grasped Kae’s hand with her own. It was course and cold. “Time, even in this realm, is not infinite.”_

_The floor sank beneath her. She felt her stomach drop as a torrent of wind tore at her clothes and her hair. Finally, it was over. All was dark now for several moments, but an acrid smell permeated the room. And she innately knew that wherever she was, the stench was not at its strongest. It was the smell of cauterized wounds, of blaster rifles set way past stun._

_A small gathering of children occupied the chamber. She wondered if the boy, **her** boy, was among them. But these were much younger. They clutched each other and grasped practice lightsabers in palpable fear. But afraid of what? Events were tumbling forward faster than she could keep up with._

_A child found the courage to speak. “Master Skywalker, there are too many of them. What do we do?”_

_Who were they talking to? Gone was the recognizable. But an apparition becoming more tangible by the second came to be beside Kae. It was tall, hooded and heavy with a weight she could not wholly assimilate. And when the lightsaber in its hand ignited, and the child flinched back, she realized that here lay a language whose reasoning was far beyond her. But, like most Jedi, she was not naïve in its implications. In the span of a few seconds she stood in front of the weak and faced the strong._

_The words that often came easy to her in many a life-threatening situation stole away._

_“You will not get in my way.” He had a young voice. But not a strong one. At least, not now._

_Maybe there was hope yet. “Whatever you’ve done, however far you’ve come, it’s not too late to turn back. I’ll let you go if you leave them out of this. I’ll...you can have me. You can kill me if you let them go. You have my word.”_

_“The word of a Jedi?” he spat._

_The blue glow of his lightsaber pulsed almost imperceptibly; narrated by its all-too-familiar hum. And then something shifted into place inside of her. In her dreams, she was omnipotent. She knew now where the scrawny, sandy-haired little pup had gone to. And not only that, but that something had gone awry. The tenets, the code, the entire foundation based upon centuries of knowledge had not been able to provide succor to this one. To this anomaly._

_“The word of another sentient being. You’ve seen me before. Don’t you remember?”_

_“I don’t know you.”_

_“Please. I know you, Skywalker. These children have done nothing to you. Were you not as they once were?”_

_“They never dreamed what I’ve dreamed. The Sandpeople torturing... What did she ever do to them? And now death after birth. I couldn’t stop the first. They didn’t let me and I didn’t get there in time. But I can save Padme. They never lost anything they’ve loved and will never know what it feels like to want...to **always** want to protect the ones they love and be denied it. To be taught to love everyone but allow them to die. But this time, I can save her and you’re not going to stop me!” He snarled and raised his blade, bringing it down towards her...and through her._

_She stood there, unharmed. She continued. “It came true, didn’t it? And they didn’t do anything to help...they let it happen.”_

_“It is the Jedi way.”_

_“It is the **wrong** way! I know now. Or at least, I’m beginning to see. They won’t change, but you... **you** still can. The power lies within you now to end the cycle. You have to listen to me. Do you believe that the Sith are the answer to your sorrows? It will take you down the same road, but it will consume you far more swiftly.”_

_“So who holds all the answers? **You?** ” he mocked._

_“No, I – ”_

A thunderous vibration shook her, the chamber, the children and young man within. They reverberated out of focus. She didn’t have much time here, she knew. Consciousness was coming.

 _The images settled once more. But they were no longer there_. _Instead, she lay seated on moss-covered ground beside the old woman again, surrounded by a bog, her silver hair clinging damply to her face. The old woman appeared to gaze at a partially submerged speeder in the swamp before her. No, it was a ship. Kae could make out a distinctive wing grasping the air in a final attempt to be seen._

_The woman broke the silence. “It’s different with your own eyes, isn’t it?”_

_“I thought...the others, Exar Kun, Ajunta Pall...I understand that it’s not just for want of power that starts them down this road, but the pain, it –”_

_“ – Humanizes them?” Beneath her hood, she allowed herself a fleeting, sad smile. “It makes it harder to reconcile with, no? It permits you to see how, given a variation in the weather, the currents could pull you under just the same.”_

_“Why have you brought me here and shown me all of this?”_

_A swamp bat glided across to a different tree with a low hoot. “You needed to see the boy firsthand because he was one in a series of examples that prove the fallacies of the Order.”_

_“Can we not save him?”_

_“I have brought you here, Arren Kae, to help save **all** that may walk in his footsteps. Because you are an anomaly in the face of an oncoming tempest. Perhaps the last vestige of hope that is willing to admit failure. Can you say it out loud though?” The woman’s head turned in her direction, and Kae didn’t need to lower the woman’s hood to take note of how intently, through the Force, she was being studied. “Can you admit that the Jedi, have and will continue to, fail us all?”_

_It came to her easier now. “Yes. They were... **are** wrong about many things. But you still haven’t answered my question. If time is indeed, as you’ve said, finite, then you’d best put aside your riddles and tell me who you are and why you’ve brought me here.”_

_“You must find a way to end this stagnancy – of both factions of the Force. It is up to you to determine the nature of their end, if they are deserving of second chances for the crimes they have committed, or if a more permanent end is the only solution left. And then, when you have decided for yourself, you will go and scour the heavens for a wound in the Force. You shall watch it and study it – learn how life still remains in its absence. And with its help, you will teach the others as I have shown you. You may either fight against the storm alone...or unite the Jedi and the Sith against it.”_

_“Where does this storm come from? The Mandalorians have been stirring things up in the Outer Rim. Do you mean that they will be the cause of another war?”_

_“The Mandalorians wage a recurring war because of who they are. This storm is alien. I do not quite see its precise machinations, but I see that it could spell the end of all life. It may veil itself behind that which we know, however, which is why we must tread very carefully.”_

_Kae let out a breath she didn’t know she had been keeping in. “Why me, though? Why not a member of the Council more learned?”_

_“Because their morals have hardened now. And because I have paid the final price to be here with you, to show you this. Because, despite knowing all that I do, I have failed and they are coming for me. I have exhausted all of my options, Arren Kae, all but you. And I know you. You will see this done to the end. Whatever end that would be.”_

_The woman’s person began to fade at the edges. Kae realized – in muted horror – that she could now see through her, through to the tree with its gnarled and darkened roots seeping into the smoking mire._

_“Wait – **who** are you?” she called out in desperation._

_“You may call me Kreia.”_

_And then she was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many moons ago, I wrote a similar story that had the Exile and her friends at its center. On rereading it again recently, it had its fair share of cringe-worthy moments, but to me, the biggest flaw was that Kreia didn't play as large a role in it as she should have. I'm trying to rectify that here. You could say that this story is an AU-spin off of my original AU. The Exile & Co will definitely play a large part here, and eventually I'll include an Exile/Atton pairing along the way.
> 
> Am also toying with the possibility of Mira hooking up with Mical, but am still working out some kinks.
> 
> Anywho...if a minority exists that have managed to read my drivel, please, please leave comments if you see anything amiss or even if you enjoyed it. Concrit is always welcome. Keep in mind, however, that since this is an AU, I've deviated from certain plot lines.
> 
> If you're interested in the actual quote the title was pulled from (and can read Latin, which I can't), here it is:
> 
> "Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo." — Virgil, from The Aenid. Basically translates to "If I cannot move heaven, then I will raise hell".


	2. Arren

**Upper City, Taris**

Cool air wafted down from a vent above, tickling leafy fronds in a glass vase. Everything enclosed within the bistro was adorned in sleek lines and coatings of white, grey and lime green. Its designer evidently had a predilection for the floral side of nature as well. In addition to the lilac and lavender bouquets that perched atop many a table, she was also flanked by long-stemmed potted ferns; giving off such pleasing scents that they _had_ to have been genetically doctored. The chimes and clinks of glassware sat a degree above the chatter of the remaining patrons, but couldn’t quite overcome a steady, instrumental tempo ubiquitous to establishments such as these. A handful of serving droids wheeled to cater to the few that required service; the subtle hum of their servos adding another musician to the unwitting orchestra.

Arren rested an elbow on the bar and cupped her chin in one hand. The other was curled idly around a glass of Tarisian ale. She’d only managed a few sips – not put off by its taste but because of the tug from the other end by reverie. She stared out the lofty, grey-framed windows, and into the hues of pinks and oranges that embellished the cityscape of Taris. Truly, Taris at dusk was a sight to behold. It didn’t hurt that twilight lasted almost five standard hours. It gave the elements sufficient time to cast its spell over its inhabitants – well, _most_ of them anyway.

By accident, she caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror hung up next to shelved bottles of liquor. She made quite the contrast. Her short, silver hair lay tucked behind her ears; very few strands out of place. But the whites of her eyes had adopted a reddish tinge, and the skin that circled them was puffy; causing the eyes themselves to appear small. To compound this new cadaver-like image, her lips had lost its colour as well. She quickly averted her gaze. 

“You didn’t come back last night,” spoke a male voice.

She wheeled around slowly on her stool, a genuine smile quickly forming at his presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that I had an itinerary to follow.” she said, smile still in place. “And that you were in charge of it.”

He grabbed the adjacent seat, laughing. “Point taken. Chalk it up to worry and forgive an old man, won’t you?”

She stretched out an affectionate hand, and gently touched flecks of silver that peppered his dark beard. “You’re hardly what I’d call old...at least on the outside. But you needn’t worry; it’s not as if I went cavorting in the Undercity while high on spice.”

“And even if you were, I’ve no doubts that you could handle yourself.”

“Hm. So aren’t you going to ask me?”

She’d lowered her hand, but he hadn’t let it go and instead, held on to it with his own, allowing it to come to rest on his lap. “Ask you what?”

“ _If you weren’t at my apartment yesterday, where were you?”_ said Arren in a baritone; a weak imitation of his voice. " _Out for a stroll?_ "

His eyes danced. “Okay, so where _were_ you?”

“I did go for a walk actually. A long one. Had a dream the night before. Couldn’t sleep after. Now ask me the second question: _you look terrible!_ _What happened?”_

Stifling a grin with charming ease, he held up an interjecting finger. “Okay, firstly, I am not one to press an issue if someone is not inclined to talk. Not unless we’re on grounds that warrant interrogation. And secondly, I may not be well-schooled in the amorous arts, but I know enough not to comment on a lady’s appearance, again, unless there is cause for interrogation. There. Have I covered all my bases?”

“That’s top marks for diplomacy and only half that for wit, General.”

“Bully for me. Now, let’s get back on topic. Was it a dream dream, or a _dream_ dream?”

“The latter, I’m afraid.”

Arren took swig of her ale. Placing it back on the counter, she wondered how much she was really willing to tell him. Iyan Yusanis was a practical man and an enterprising one. For him, value lay in the _doings_ and he was visibly uncomfortable when it came to spiritual musings. There were days when she even wondered if he believed in the Force, or if he’d categorized it as religious hyperbole and filed it away for others more suited to its study. Certainly, he had acknowledged that her using her powers to move objects around was no illusion, but that there was nothing magical or mysterious about it. The Force was not a sapient thing. It was not alive. There was a more scientific explanation for it that lay outside the spectrum of contemporary research, but there was no doubt in his mind that technology would one day be able to quantify it thoroughly and prove his assertions true. He believed that the day would come where near-everyone would be able to possess as high a midichlorian count as the average Jedi, for a price of course.

How then to explain to a man such as this that she was given visions of the future by a manifestation of the Force? Or whoever the old crone was. True, Kae and Yusanis were very much in love and still at that stage where they could easily indulge one another’s idiosyncrasies, and she’d remarked – once or twice – that she could predict a few events, but these were always inconsequential matters that had arisen only in passing. Like the appearance of a room, or a building for example. Or what outrageous garb Senator Saan would wear to heavily publicized charity events. But this was different. This could spell the end of the Order, and quite possibly the Republic as they knew it as well. And, if the old bat was right, life itself. And how was she going to tell him that it was _she_ , Jedi Arren Kae – one whose confidence in her faith grew more fractured by the day – who had been tasked with finding out what was at fault and putting a stop to it?

No. It was best to play those cards close. Very close.

“It’s just,” she began, “I’ve been reading reports of the atrocities committed on our borders by the Mandalorians. They’re a conquering race – aggressive and territorial, certainly – but depraved? A week ago a report came in from someplace on Serocco, I can’t remember exactly where, but I was told that they had skinned villagers alive.” Kae glanced up at her lover, hoping that her sidestep had been executed well. It wasn’t a complete untruth. The atrocity _had_ disturbed her.

“Is that what’s keeping you up at night?” He rubbed his temple with his free hand. “I must confess, the scuttlebutt between a couple joint task forces is that it feels a little out of the norm. Nothing worthy of red alert just yet though. As a student of history yourself, you know the Mandalorians aren’t ones for sleight of hand. But it does feel as if we’re being...”

“…goaded?” finished Kae. “Well, the Republic has certainly not been ambivalent when it’s come to their stance on the Mandalorians. So perhaps that’s all it is. They’re looking for a bigger challenge than what a few underdeveloped colonies have to offer.”

“Yes, _but_.” Yusanis drummed idle fingers on the bar. “I understand why they’d wait until after the Sith war. Our numbers have thinned and this move of theirs makes sense. But why not challenge us head-on? As they’ve done in the past? Why bait the Republic?”

“Perhaps they have their designs on some core worlds. Capital planets with already developed infrastructure. If they can take them with minimal damage.” volunteered Kae. “Bring the big guns all the way out here so that not much is left to defend hearth and home. If they can temporarily occupy systems that house predetermined hyperspace routes, or – Force forbid – develop their own, they should easily be able to sneak in through a back door.”

He shook his head. “We’ve done all we can to guard our end of the corridor. A refusal to engage doesn’t mean we’ve put our guns down and checked into permanent retirement. Our fingers may not be on the trigger, but our weapons are loaded.”

 _Sounds a lot like that slogan could be slapped onto a poster and used in recruitment drives. Photos of handsome young men and women looking nobly off into the distance situated above it_. _Join the Republic Navy: Ever Alert, Ever Vigilant_. _A pity the Jedi didn’t resort to similar tactics. It could have proved very amusing_.

“Command maneuvers aside, how does Iyan the _person_ feel about all of this?”

“Now you _know_ I’m not one to go all in on a hunch.”

“No, bu- _ut_ you have decades of statecraft under your belt. Surely that’s cultivated some kind of instinct in you.”

“You mean, if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck but smells like rancid meat?”

Kae laughed and nodded.

He conceded, smiling along with her. “In that case, I’d send out a few bloodhounds to sniff out the area. If it reeks, I’d be inclined to think that it isn’t a duck. I ah...do you think it’s not a duck?”

“I have my doubts.” _And then some_. “What about you or your contemporaries? Have you put out any lines in the water? Have you dispatched your bloodhounds?”

“Without betraying any intergalactic secrets, I suppose I could admit to it. Nothing’s bitten yet, I’m afraid. But that’s about as far as I’m willing to go. I’m sorry, Love.”

She swirled her drink slowly. “Perhaps we should call it quits now. I’ll leave the Order, you leave the Republic and we’ll settle down someplace offworld. Sandy shores, pleasant weather. No politics, no _war_.”

“With nothing but our love to keep us going?” He eyed her playfully despite undertones of mild cynicism.

“Yes. With a little boy and girl of our own. And a planetary shield in place to protect us when the proverbial shit hits the fan. Is living in denial really so _terrible_?”

“It is if it’s not who you are. And, Love, neither one of us would be able to manage it.”

“You never know unless you try,” she remonstrated weakly.

“You wouldn’t be able to turn your back on them. At the merest hint of injustice, you’d be running with your lightsaber in hand, charging off at the oppressors."

 _Would I really? Or are they better off fending for themselves, overcoming hardships on their own? They would come out all the stronger for it. If they didn’t come out **dead**_. “That’s quite the pedestal you’ve got me on. And you’re wrong. The Mandalorians are out there challenging Exar Kun for despot-of-the-month and here I am, in Taris’ Upper City drinking the local, but rather expensive, ale in luxury.”

“Don’t forget you’re seated next to a dashing Republic officer as well.”

“That too.”

Yusanis relinquished her hand. He furrowed his brows and shut his eyes. Kae knew that look.

“What is it?”

Opening his eyes: “It’s probably nothing. Just a passing thought.”

“ _Nevertheless_...”

“Something you said before. About the Mandalorians challenging the Sith. Switch up the nouns and it makes sense.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The _Mandalorians_ skinned an entire village alive. Now replace the words, Arren. The Sith, instead of the Mandalorians.”

“You think the Sith are the true instigators here?” The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “You’re beginning to sound like the Jedi Council. Bunch of crotchety old fusspots that come running out of their homes as soon as they hear any noise on the front lawn. Except they don’t _do_ anything about it anymore, but cry _Sith!_ and sic their dogs on the nearest passerby. You're the dogs, by the way. The grand Republic: domesticated pets of the Jedi.” She noted that the jab seemed to pierce deeper than she’d intended. _The infallible General Yusanis, offended by a woman?_ He must care for her more than she’d realized.

“It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. Maybe what they really want is you. The Jedi. The _real_ challenge. But they have to hurt the Republic first. And you’ve got it the wrong way round; you’re the lapdogs. Wound us and the Jedi will come dashing to the rescue.”

 _I wouldn’t bet on it_. “So you’re saying that more than just the Mandalorians are waiting for us out there...”

“Like I said: it’s not really that wild of a guess. You _did_ ask me what I felt, after all.”

“You’re right,” Kae conceded, “you’re right. I did ask. There is always more going on that meets the eye. And in our vocations, it would be naive to accept these things at face value. However.” She drained her ale in one swallow and placed the glass down with finality. “Life goes on. I’m due back at the Academy next week – I’ll be proctoring my first initiate trial during the apprentice tourneys. I get to pick my own Padawan from the lot. Poor soul. Imagine me – guiding some hapless child through their formative years as a Jedi!”

“I would say you’d do just fine, but if you don’t mind me saying so, you _do_ seem a little off center. Something makes me suspect that those reports you read are only part of a bigger problem. Want to talk about it?”

 _What a dangerous thing it was. Allowing people to get close to you_. “Maybe. But not now. I’m so tired of talking about could-bes and couldn’t-bes. So tired of _duty_. I would just like to... _not_ talk for a while.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile.

He paused momentarily – as if deciding between pursuing the issue or leaving it to another day. A touch of disappointment filtered through his eyes, but otherwise he managed to return the gesture. “Understood. I’ve got a few things to take care of first. Meet me at my apartment in two hours.”

He turned and left her alone then, with nothing but her fears and an empty glass.

* * *

**Later that night**

_Because, despite knowing all that I do, I have failed and they are coming for me. I have exhausted all of my options, Arren Kae, all but you._

Kae’s eyes flicked open abruptly – hands clutching desperately at the cloth at her sides. She quickly put into play a meditative technique to tame the immediate source of her panic. _Identify the tangible first, touch it and name it. Then find another, and another. Permit them to guide you back to the here and now, the only berth of relevance_. Funny that the method itself didn’t have any Jedi roots; it was one of many closely guarded by the Gand Findsmen, and she was privileged to have learned it at all.

Her pulse, now returned to its baseline, was steady and allowed her senses to take in the sleeping body to her left. Iyan slumbered peacefully beside her; ignorant to any sudden movements she might have made. The scratches that the old harpy – Kae was loath to refer to her by her name, she didn’t know why – had made across her conscience left echoes that no amount of meditation could rid her of. And her instinct, ever-solid, ever-reliable, could not shake the dogged truths of that vision. There was no denying the invisible thread that linked her to _her_. She was also cognizant of the fact that it was _Arren_ who willfully and deliberately didn’t want to sever that thread. It made her uneasy.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled a checkered quilt around her shoulders. Moving with soft footfalls, she made her way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot sheets of water steamed off the beige tiles and shrugging out of the blanket, Kae stood gratefully underneath its head.

 _What did she really mean when she’d instructed me to search for a wound in the Force?_ Any location of mass genocide could easily create such phenomena. Was she to go scouring the galaxy, onto every single war-torn planet and sniff the air for foul odors? _Ridiculous. Could’ve given me more to go on_. And that was the other thing. Why hadn’t she? The woman had had plenty of time to take her rollicking into shades of the future. The way things were going, and they were leagues below subpar, Kae would have to pen a retelling of her own if she survived: _How to Cater to Lunacy and Save the Galaxy: An Autobiographical Account of Dysfunctional Force Manifestations_.

Bet they wouldn’t have _that_ in the Jedi archives.

Grudgingly turning off the cascading water, she entered Yusanis’ study. She settled into a richly upholstered leather chair and switched his terminal on. It took her a few minutes to get through stringent layers of protocol to remotely access some of the Jedi databases linked to her account. Access didn’t exactly grant her a holocron’s worth of information since a lot of Jedi knowledge was dangerous and could be worth a pretty sum to any information broker, but it was a start anyway.

She first began searching for the name _Skywalker_. A few ship registries flashed on screen. No exact matches for _people_ appeared but the name couldn’t be crossed off just yet. The galaxy was a big place, with certain systems following their own rules when it came to citizen registration and annual censuses. And she could forget about the Outer Rim – she’d have better luck looking for water in the dune seas of Tatooine. She filed it away for later. Thanks to her already comprehensive knowledge in Galactic history, with a specialization in political climates that were preludes to great wars, she knew where to go to ask the right questions. She quickly picked a path through a few historical records, paying close attention to regions of indiscriminate culling or wars with heavy death tolls in concentrated areas.

Korriban was a world that immediately came to mind; its scorched surface a resting place to many powerful Sith Lords. There were even rumours of a Sith Academy there where Force sensitives were corralled to be broken, willing or no. But she couldn’t journey there without Jedi sanction, not to mention that Korriban would very likely be a one-way trip on her own. Then there was Dxun, a Class I planet and one of Onderon’s four moons, which contemporary historians allege to have held the sarcophagus of Freedon Nadd, a Dark Lord trained by none other than Naga Sadow himself. Perhaps she would have to pay a visit to that jungle-covered rock in the near future. There were a few other planetoids that fit the profile and she noted them down in her datapad. 

She leaned back and stretched out her arms; hands clasped together. Now she had a _where_. The next step would consist of a more detailed _how_. Was mass genocide the _only_ way to create a wound in the Force? Jedi could perform minor acts of healing while the Sith possessed abilities to drain another’s life to sustain their own. Was it then possible to devise a method by which a Sith could feed continuously on the life force of others, weakening them to death and then go hunting for fresh quarry? Certainly. It was one of their many conversion techniques save for the fact that they didn’t intend to kill their mark. But what if a device existed analogous to a massive gravitational field, except that it drew in the Force instead of matter? Not entirely preposterous. Black holes can bend and suck in light like people could liquid through a straw. But what would such an instrument even look like? And how robust was this field of study anyway?

A face came to mind; a specialist she knew who once dabbled in archaic tech, became so enamoured by it that they made it their full-time occupation and managed to keep tidy sums of credits coming in thanks to their enthusiastic efforts. But this was one of those friend-of-a-friend situations as she really couldn’t recall their name, let alone where they were and what they were doing now. She would have to contact friend number one then - the one whose name she actually knew. Hopefully, they still resided on Alderaan. Kae performed a quick calculation to determine the precise hour there, realized that it was probably a little late in the evening, but damned propriety regardless. A few contact details were exchanged across comm terminals and she found herself dialing a Jesier Vorsk. Somewhat of an expert in his bailiwick of Sith technology.

After several minutes of polite preamble, Kae cut to the chase. “So tell me, Vorsk. In all your years of research, have you ever come across the Force equivalent of a black hole?”

The Quarren rested a pink chin on clasped hands. “You mean like a big mass shadow signature that keeps everything intact but pulls the Force in only?” He chuckled. “Good thing you called me and not an actual physicist!”

He had a point. Any practical scientist worth his weight in salt would’ve immediately shut down such delusions of quasi-mysticism and laughed her out of the room. And that would be on a good day. “So have you? Come across anything remotely like it?”

“If we want to think of it as something that produces that big of a signature, there are a few large planets, and I mean _behemoth-sized_ , that do. But even though no one plots hyperspace routes in their vicinity, they’re not going to suck in a ship with decent thrusters. An alternative would be something with a high concentration of degenerate matter. Something very, _very_ dense. Like a star before it dies – the opposite of it going nova. There is a theory, a bit of an outlier however – ”

“Yes...?” asked Kae, trying not to appear eager but failing utterly.

“Let me finish. I have a colleague – he’s not what I would call well-respected in our circles, but he’s no fool. Maybe just too advanced for our time. Published a paper a few years ago; made a big noise when it came out. He says that datacron tech – you Jedi use holocrons – was never originally intended to store just information, and that it was just a useful side effect. Give me a minute.”

Vorsk disappeared off screen for a moment and then returned with a datapad in hand. He glanced at it and then back up at Kae. “The average datacron can hold a large quantity of data, correct? Some are even capable of holding an entire archive’s worth. Your Jedi holocron can do the same, except that its information is protected by rigorous encryption protocols and physical mechanisms inside that can only be unlocked by specific Force-sensitive individuals. Now my colleague doesn’t give a fig about the encryption aspect of things. But he’s convinced that the other half of security; the process of shifting the right gears into the right slots was not the same as a Jedi moving furniture around the room. These were a deliberate series of events that granted the user more privileges the further into the unlocking process they went.

“Bortis even came up with a term for it: the _Cascade Solution_. Or was it _Cascade Reversal_?” He shrugged his shoulders once. “No matter. You could consider it the opposite of a cascade failure, I suppose. He theorizes that you Force adepts have only scratched the surface of what holocrons could contain. Maybe you stopped at a point when you got the information you needed, maybe different Force techniques are required. I don’t know. Either way, he’s convinced that their full potential has yet to be tapped into.”

Kae scrunched her face thoughtfully. “But what does this even have to do with Force wounds and black holes?”

Vorsk held up a dramatic index finger. “Be patient. That was backstory that led to the two of us crossing paths. About ten years back I was on one of my digs. A Sith burial site on Celestius Prime. Not a Sith Lord big-wig, but clearly important enough to conduct a ritual over. The mummified corpse was intact as was its casket lid, but instead of cult worshippers, do you know what we found?”

“Holocrons.”

“Yes!” he clapped his hands in glee. “Six spherical holocrons. _Not_ in the shape of the polyhedrons your Order uses, _not_ pyramidal like the Sith either. Six. Spheres. Made out of cortosis ore and beskar. Impregnable little balls. So we transported them carefully to a local dig site; packaged them together in a box protected by some expandable foam. Three holocrons per container. On the way there we heard this rattling at the back of our trailer where we’d stored them. The little blighters were trying to get out. Tore straight through metal and one nearly took my eye out. Fortunately for us, they didn’t fly off or anything, just flopped out back onto the ground and stayed there.

“So muttering curses under our breath, we started to pick them up. I held two in my hand when the strangest thing happened. I don’t think I’ll even forget it on my deathbed. The closer each sphere was to the other, the stronger was the repelling force. Like two positively-charged metal conductors. The harder I tried to bring them into contact with each other, the queerer I felt. I got them down to about three inches apart when everything around me seemed to...dawdle. I could hear my own heartbeat like I hear you right now. But the gap between each pulse was too lengthy. In fact, I initially thought it was the slow beating of a drum.

“I was frightened now. And, being the coward that I am, I pulled them apart. The drum stopped. It was as if it never happened. So we took them back, in _separate_ containers this time, and I told my team not to touch the buggers – even with a ten-foot pole – until we knew what their true purpose was. 

“Anyway, after I released a few observational descriptions to some of my peers, Bortis quite literally showed up at my door the following week. A bit odd, that. Seeing as how back then, Bortis wasn’t even among my peers. But an interesting find, word spreading like wildfire, et cetera, et cetera. You know how it is.”

“What did Bortis have to share?”

“These spheres had been referenced in some ancient texts. Not Sith or Jedi. It was an indecipherable language, but luckily for us he had run across some of their, how should I put it...illustrated works. Paintings actually, by primitives no longer around to tell the tale. They were usually depicted around the dead; six round holocrons, each equidistant from the other. Now Bortis, Bortis thinks that these spheres were used to try to bring a loved one back from the dead. But he never really could explain how. And if it even worked. He did also mention something about the Force bending when the holocrons were brought into close proximity of one another. But I don’t think he had an explanation for that either. I know this isn’t precisely the wound in the Force you were looking for earlier, but perhaps you could start with bending and then go from there.”

Kae chewed on an errant fingernail; her hands icy cold. “Do you still have them?”

“Alas, no. Was going to have them displayed in Celestius’ cultural museum, except that I made the mistake of contacting your beloved Order. Even Bortis thought it couldn’t hurt since they _did_ have the ability to open them, and could maybe tell us what the blazes was going on. But they marched in soon after and took _our_ find without offering any type of compensation. They claimed that it was Jedi property to begin with.”

 _Ah, yes. When it came to rendering assistance, the Jedi wore many faces_. Still, the fact that the Jedi had appropriated them was an encouraging thought. It provided her with a convenient and potentially significant place to start. Getting into the holocron vault and at these specific orbs would require a compelling reason, however. But she’d take it one bridge at a time. After all, she had one more favour to ask of the Quarren.

She gave him her most winning smile. “Vorsk, you have no idea how helpful you’ve been. Just a few hours ago I was rather disoriented and I didn’t really know where to begin. You’ve given me more than I could have asked for. One day I’ll have to buy you a drink and perhaps we could even discuss some of your research.” He puffed out his chest slightly. She’d drowned him in butter; better to put a stop to it now before her sycophancy smelled _too_ disingenuous. “I just need one more favour from you. You’re a friend of Bortis’ – I would dearly love to speak with him. Perhaps he’d have some new information to share. Do you where he lives? If he’s got the time to even meet with me?”

Vorsk snorted, but she got the feeling it wasn’t in derision. “He should. Didn’t make tenure for the third time in a row and left the university. Became a bit of a recluse from what I’ve heard. He’s got the time, but whether he’ll agree to see you is another matter entirely. Here’s what you _should_ do. Don’t announce yourself. Just show up at his home like he did at mine. It won’t really give him time to conjure up an excuse to avoid you. But just do me favour, would you? After you meet with him, let me know how he’s doing. He’s a tightly wound little fellow, but a good sort in the end.”

Kae promised that she would.

* * *

The planets had all aligned in Kae’s favour. It turned out that the enigmatic Bortis had a flat in one of the seven cultural districts on Coruscant; she could pay him a visit and then be back at the Temple by late afternoon. The area was a sprawling urban expanse of parks, museums, community spaces and quaint restaurants that grew across rather than up; a rarity for the planet that already contended with overpopulation. 

The sun was creeping above the horizon when she’d reached his apartment block. Thankfully, she didn’t have to deal with any doorman droids on entering the lobby. Instead, an old man with a swathe of white hair looked up from his datapad to ask what business she was about this morning. She swindled him of independent thought with a wave of her hand and seconds later, she was riding the turbolift up to the fourth floor.

The elevator doors parted to reveal a commotion of activity in the corridor. An Ithorian lumbered by with a case in hand and passed it onto another individual who ducked under yellow tape and through a doorway. Two women leaned up against the wall – one human and one Twi’lek, utterly preoccupied by their hand terminals. Suddenly, one looked up and barked over at Kae.

“Ma’am, this area’s off limits for now. Give us a few hours and you’ll be able to return to your apartment.” And then, as an afterthought worthy of any insincere apologist unwilling to deal with the paperwork that came with negative feedback, she added: “Your cooperation in this matter is greatly appreciated.”

 _You forgot to remind me to take the customer survey at the end of the call_. Irritated, she asked, “What’s going on? You’re not building security. Has something happened?”

“Civilians are currently not allowed to enter the area of, or around, the crime scene.”

“Crime scene?” A quiet dread began to steal over her. She raised herself on her toes to catch a glimpse of the apartment number on the open door, and came back down with startled realization. “Bortis Choba? Does Bortis Choba live here?”

The Twi’lek then managed to pull away from her terminal and approached Kae. “Are you a friend of Bortis Choba?”

Kae nodded – caution warning her against revealing the entire truth.

The Twi’lek took a deep breath before she spoke. “You might want to take a seat. I have some bad news.”


	3. Elori

**The Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

If she wanted to find Revan, she’d have to find Alek first. The lanky youth was two heads taller than his friend. Easily taller than a lot of them really, and therefore, easy to spot. Hearing diffused sounds coming from a section of the Temple’s north library, she followed the commotion to its source. The door of the small enclave had been left open and she peered in. A few young faces looked back up at her; first in alarm, then in relief and finally in adulation. The word _popular_ had a great many negative connotations, but exploits of her and her friends – especially Revan – and their talents inspired variants of childlike reverence.

“May want to keep it down, boys and girls,” she said in a hushed, sing-song voice.

“Is she coming this way?” asked a boy no more than ten with a panicked aura.

Elori Mataki shook her head. “Last I saw her, she was yelling at Nopatis for mishandling some manuscripts.”

Another child groaned. “How’d she even _get_ to be a Jedi?”

They all knew quite well how it happened, but griping was cathartic and unifying – the _she_ that they all referred to was a creature of legend; able to instill fear even in some of the Masters. Ever since Elori had become properly acquainted with the Temple’s magnificent library, she had realized that the relationship came with a price. Its head custodian, the intractable Master Cho, was a force to be reckoned with; if anyone was brave enough to do some reckoning. They all swore that she sported cybernetic implants that instantly alerted her when any sound exceeded fifty decibels. She probably had them wired to various detectors, concealed in different locations. A single sneeze, a sudden exclamation and there she was – looking down at you sternly from underneath bushy white eyebrows. And then she’d pick you up by the ear and gobble up what little leisure time you already had by having you sort through antiquated volumes by hand for the rest of your foreseeable future, or until you got the task completed to her liking.

No one really knew _why_ she became the library’s caretaker, but it wasn’t difficult to guess how. Either the Council of Reassignment (pragmatically referred to as CoR and less pragmatically as the _Reject Jury_ ) saw to this transition if she’d failed the Jedi Initiate trials, or she’d decided on this path later on in life. Either way, Elori was relieved to know that in addition to a slew of obstacles that Jedi Apprentices faced, becoming Cho’s Padawan wouldn’t be one of them.

Well, maybe she was being a little unfair. A corner of Elori’s mouth tugged upwards thoughtfully. Maybe Cho had her reasons. “A Jedi’s allowed to get angry, I would think. We can’t all be machines.”

Deaf to any excuse that defended their common enemy, and loath to even mention her name, the boy nearest to her switched topics and looked up expectantly. “Did you get your lightsaber built? What colour is it?”

“That I did. And it’s blue.”

“So more tests today too, right? And then you’ll make Padawan?”

As far as crossroads went, this was the big leagues. In the context of their short lives, it was where their stories _truly_ began. But when the time came, it came with frayed nerves and severe apprehension. She gave a, hopefully convincing, non-committal shrug. “Dunno. The Service Corps isn’t a terrible place to go.”

“Yeah, but the Service Corps is for rejects. You’ll never get to see any action.”

Another child chimed in. “And you get stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere.”

 _Doesn’t sound half bad, actually. Avoiding the frontlines, lengthening your life expectancy._ _May even be relocated to an idyllic spot_. _Maybe a sturdy little cottage built into the side of a mountain_. Some children who were taken from their families as younglings were even permitted to return to them, provided their parents still wanted them back and with the endorsement of the Council of course. But ultimately, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to become a Padawan and hone her skills under the tutelage of a wise teacher. Perhaps she didn’t want it as badly as some of her contemporaries, but an awkward, social stigma always pinned itself to who you were if you failed. And within the Order, your peers weren’t the only ones who could see it.

Not quite knowing how to respond to the boy’s remark, she quickly deflected. “Anyone seen Alek? Or Revan?”

They suggested that she search for him in the abbey gardens. She turned and walked past the vast expanse of ornate, wooden shelves. The archives housed a marriage of old and new knowledge. The tall rotunda she strode through contained tablets of scientific material – from philosophies to theories to published results. Each tablet could be removed – with Master Cho’s reluctant blessing – and plugged into any terminal to access its contents. Their bindings blinked in intervals of soft green, blue and yellow lights. Green indicated that the tome was available to be checked out, blue meant that it was due to be borrowed and yellow signaled that under no circumstances was it to be removed from library premises.

Leaving the archives, she stepped into a turbolift which took her to the seventh floor and into what many apprentices, initiates and padawans fondly called the Abbey. The elevator doors divided to reveal an entire floor dedicated to an expansive, verdant enclosure. She stepped onto grey sands and moss-covered stones framed by maple trees and evergreens in constant flourish. The area was shepherded routinely by a few green-thumbed Jedi and an artificial night and day cycle. She followed a loosely cobbled path to a short bridge that overlooked a lively stream, and past a row of weeping willows that dipped tentative branches into the water.

The space had originally been intended to provide an informal venue for contemplative reverie and environmental meditation for Jedi teachers and scholars. But, over the course of a few years, it had become a gathering place for the Temple’s younger inhabitants. It granted them a little room to be themselves and to indulge in recreation that didn’t stray _too_ far from the Order’s code. Somehow, the term “Abbey Garden” had come into play and the name stuck. Thankfully, it lay several notches above “Papoose Caboose” – something Revan had the gall to propose to a few of the Council members once upon a time. At this juncture, the masters had decided to cut their losses and simply constructed another organic terrace three floors above this one.

Elori found two of her friends perched on rocks that bordered a smaller-scaled _wairere_ ; a short waterfall. Their boots had been removed and placed neatly on the embankment behind them.

His toes dangled lazily in the water and the gaze under the telltale mop of so-black-it-was-almost-blue hair looked her way.

The boy’s eyes danced at her despite his palpable anxiety. “ _Oh hell no, we won’t go...”_

“... _Take us to the Service Corps_ ,” finished Elori, laughing.

It was a puerile joke-turned-mantra that had caught on when Master Kavar had returned from a grueling assignment in the Outer Rim. He’d come back a little worse for wear and had been overheard regretting the choices he’d made during his own trials. Specifically: _Could be sipping tea on a ranch by now – not worrying about constant death and dismemberment_.

Alek, often Revan’s shadow and frequently _in_ it, rolled his eyes heavenwards. “Unsophisticated buffoons.” He shifted closer to Revan after Elori motioned for him to make room for her on another damp rock. His hands closed around a small pebble and he flung it into the shallow stream. “We should be meditating.”

“I _am_ meditating. On what kind of farmstead I’m going to build. Is hydroponic farming still in use? Always wanted to try that out.” said Revan.

“Knowing our luck, they’ll stick us on a moisture farm where the local livestock are liable to _eat_ you more than help you,” predicted Elori as she undid the laces from her shoes.

“That sounds about right.”

Alek shot a vexing glare at Revan. “Can we please just try to figure out what the hell we’re going to be tested on?”

“What happened?” Elori set her boots next to those of her companions.

“Initiate trials are going to be a little different this year,” explained Alek with a scowl firmly in place. “ _We want to test **more** than their physical skills, **more** than their Force techniques, **more** than their problem-solving abilities. This year we’ll be looking harder at loyalty and sacrifice and what it means to each of them_.”

“Thus sayeth the Vrook.” remarked Revan with finality.

“Seriously? When did this happen?”

“This morning. I overheard him speaking to what I _think_ is the proctoring team. He’s usually careful about what he says and where he says it, which is why I think he intended to be overheard.”

"Who's on the team?"

"Uh, Vrook for certain...then, two Council chairs, but I don't know who. There may be a fourth - same as last year."

“You heard nothing else?”

“Nope.”

Alek let out a dramatic cry of despair and threw his tattooed head forward into his hands. “It’s all well and good for you two. You had no trouble piecing together your lightsabers. They gave you flawless lenses and gave me the leftovers from the reject pile. I kept hearing this ominous crackle every time I switched mine on. And now they’re going to examine it and have it spontaneously combust in their faces.”

“Now there’s an image.”

“There, there,” grinned Elori in mocking placation. “I’m sure they’ll loan you another lightsaber for the rest of the trials.”

“That’s not the point! Constructing that confounded thing is twenty-five percent of our grade!”

“If you like, I could throw the melee and go down in the second half or something. Level the playing field a bit.” offered Revan.

Elori watched her wiggling toes under the water. _Is he joking or being serious?_ “Pointless. They’d see you coming a mile away.”

“She’s right,” muttered Alek. “That’ll never fly. I’ll just have to accept that I’ll be tilling the soil for the rest of my pathetic life.”

“With us right alongside you.” said Elori, more sincerely this time.

Alek looked at the pair of them in turn. “You two just don’t get it, do you? The reason you can joke so easily about joining the Service Corps is because you’ll never be in it. You didn’t have to work hard to use the Force; it just comes naturally to you. The rest of us have to slave for _years_ to achieve what you did in a couple of months.”

“Hey now, that’s unfair. I can’t speak for Revan, but I worked – ”

“ – Just let me rant, okay? The next couple of hours and days are going to be the last few chances I have to prove who I can be and what I can do. We have to be at the sparring arena in less than four hours and I don’t want to waste my time cracking infantile jokes next to babbling brooks.” Alek rose decisively and slipped on his boots before storming off.

Elori moved as if to follow suit when Revan pulled her gently back down. “Let him go. He hasn’t been getting much sleep this past week.”

She raised and lowered her shoulders in resignation. “There are days,” she began, “when I think that that boy needs a woman. Or a man. Or whatever he’s into.”

Revan chuckled. “Well, that’s not going to happen anytime soon, if at all, so we’d better get used to his nerves before it becomes contagious.”

“Fair enough.” She dipped her hand into the water and let her fingers relax – allowing the gentle current to nuzzle past them. “Good to know some things won’t change, at least.”

Revan’s impish look fell away instantly. “Oh, _everything’s_ going to change. Whether we get through this or not. Whichever way you want to look at it – as a farmer, an engineer or a Knight – you’re going to reminisce on all of this as one of the best times in your life. You might be able to visit it, sure, but you’ll never be the same – the _you_ you are now.”

“Alright then, Mister Fourteen-going-on-forty, whatever happened to _the past is the past: to look back is to fail?_ ”

He tossed her a rounded, palm-sized rock. “Can’t believe you guys actually pay attention to the crap that comes out of my mouth.”

Elori threw it back. “ _Someone’s_ got to pay attention so they can keep you grounded. You’re as bad as Master Dorak’s ‘A wise man once said...’. I swear, sometimes he contradicts his own parables at least three times a day. The only reason he got so bad is because none of his friends bother to correct him.”

“It’s called adaptability, and it’s all about keeping an open mind.” Flinging the stone back and forth among themselves, he went on. “You’re not going to miss any of it? The Abbey? The dueling rooms with the faulty sprinklers? Cho’s pulmonary edemas?”

She chuckled. “Do you remember that time when they were renovating the east dormitories and they tied the fire detection lines to the dueling room lines? It went off every single night for about two weeks! One time, you wanted to sneak out and try some street food after Greta did a head count.”

“I remember you being dead to the world. That thing sounded like a dreadnaught on drugs and you were _out_. I almost had to drag you out of the room by your feet, and I was already half-starved as it was.”

“And the time we broadcast Alek’s snores over the comm system?”

Revan doubled over and laughed so hard it almost looked like it hurt. He struggled to speak in between breaths. “Lansing said...he thought someone set sonic charges. You still have the audio?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do. Saved on my terminal for life. One of the best ideas I’ve had. I mean, that’s it, isn’t it? The purest form of attainment I’ll ever reach. No need for Initiate trials, thank you very much for coming and you can run along and be a Jedi Knight now.”

He wiped tears from his eyes. “They should have given you a medal.”

She turned and cast her gaze on the peeling bark of an evergreen. She remembered when she’d left the Temple for the first time, almost seven years ago to the day. She was just six when she was herded into a shuttle by Jedi Masters she didn’t know. It was to be an offworld outing – a fun but educational experience designed to expose herself and the other fourteen younglings to unfamiliar cultures. As she watched the Temple shrink into the distance through the back window, she felt her anchor slip away too, terrified that she was leaving home – the one place where, when she knocked, they would _have_ to let her in. But they returned after one month and she’d forgotten those feelings to the myriad demands of life. Until today, however, when the same sentiment struck her with a vengeance. Except this time, it had the advantage of experience that came with age to make it all the more potent.

 _What if I come knocking one day, and they don’t let me in?_ “Of course I’m going to miss all of this. How could I not?” She worried her lower lip. “Sometimes I think that if I did fail and the reject jury stuck me in the library like Cho, I’d be alright. If I knew for sure, I might even be tempted to lose.”

He looked up at an artificial sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

“Nah. Not you. If you took a dive, you’d be betraying yourself. I lack ambition, and I’m not afraid to admit it. Remember what Vrook said that one time? He said I’d be happy living in a _bog_ if someone brought me food and drink every day. You? You’d tear up the walls if they stuck you in the middle of nowhere. To not make you a Jedi? What a _waste_.”

“At the risk of jinxing all our futures, I have a feeling we’ll do just fine.”

 _Would they though?_ In the past few years, she sparred with him less frequently. Wrangling with him had its benefits. She would weigh him out – tally his strengths against his weaknesses, adapt to them and develop her own counterattacks. But it was a double-edged sword. She was certain that whatever she learned from him, he’d picked up twice that amount from her. In the end, she almost always chose to be the attentive audience rather than his rival, and dueled other initiates in his stead. It was better to tuck a few tricks under her sleeves and save it for the _real_ endgame. The thing was, he was probably going to do the same.

“Speak for yourself. If someone pairs you against me in the melee, I’m toast.”

“That’s a one in six chance. Not great odds, but unlikely. Anyway, skinny little things like you fight pretty hard.” He stretched out flat on the embankment, hands behind his head – looking up at her as he spoke.

She turned to grab her boots and put them on. “Speaking of toast... _and_ being skinny, you wanna forage in the kitchens?”

“Who’s on duty in the east quad?”

“Lorelei.”

“Yeah, okay. She won’t be a problem. I think she likes me.”

Elori stood directly above him and gave him a trying look. “Well, get your ass in gear then. I’m starving.”

* * *

_Funny_ , she thought, _Republic officers in the dueling arena? Since when did initiate trials become military theatre? Was this a psychological ploy?_ Well, she’d come prepared. After stuffing their faces with a few curious delicacies, she urged Revan to go on ahead without her, and made a prudent stop at the fresher. _You can rattle my mind, but you can’t rattle my belly_.

As the six young acolytes stood dutifully next to each other, she thought she recognized one of the two officers next to masters Vrook and Prematha at the head of the hexagonal atrium. A noncom Kavar had possibly served with a few years ago? It would make sense. After all, Kavar – an adept strategist and profitable ally in wartime – did have numerous Republic connections. It didn’t matter. Two other instructors, possibly the rest of the proctoring team, joined them. Jedi Arren Kae was notably absent (rumour had it that she was considering taking one of the students here as her padawan), but that was the least of her worries. After a few exchanged pleasantries or whatever small-talk the occasion warranted, they turned to face the six initiates.

Any words of wisdom they intended to impart to this next generation of would-be warriors went in one ear and out the other. In her case, at any rate. They were marred beyond recognition by the frenetic pace of traffic in her mind. A few catchphrases stuck here and there: something about pride, practical use, low energy settings...were they to use the lightsabers they built then? It would mean that she’d accomplished at least that.

Then Jedi Prematha Ullen stepped forward along with Masters Shreem and Djani and began laying down the rules. There was to be minimal Force usage: utilizing it to guide their own offence and defense was encouraged. Even a few mental deceptions were acceptable. But fling your opponent against the wall, and you’ve forfeited all your rights to participate. This was after all, an assessment of their saber skills first and Force proficiency second.

Alek, to her right, his figure stiff with rapt attention, nodded along. Brema on her left was doing the same.

She attempted to keep her fidgeting to a bare minimum. _We all know the rules – just please, for sanity’s sake, skip the prologue_.

Vrook and Shreem then started handing over the initiate-crafted lightsabers to their owners with solemn demonstration. Shreem spoke a few words to each of them in turn. Her voice was low and her advice was most likely tailored to each competitor alone. The traffic inside picked up the pace. 

_Should have stayed away from those canapes_. _What’s so wrong with becoming a librarian anyway? Free room and board at the Temple plus I’d get to spend my day around books_. _That beats possible dismemberment, doesn’t it? Damn canapes_.

“...spar with Initiate Mataki.”

Her head jerked towards Master Vrook. He was addressing Revan.

 _Oh no. Oh hell no_.

Revan peeked out from around Alek and waved. Vrook pinned him back with a fierce stare.

Elori didn’t quite know how she moved from standing in a line to standing in front of her friend, but before she knew it, he’d ignited his green lightsaber and brought it within an inch of his face; the gesture both a challenge and a sign of respect. And then she found herself doing the same – her body on autopilot.

It wasn’t until Revan had finished circling her; he kicked off with a half-hearted lunge – testing her defenses, that mind and body finally coalesced. She knew where she was. She knew how she got there and she’d be damned if she let panic rule and ruin everything she worked for.

Warming up and actively searching for flaws helped give her a better grip on the Force. It quickly guided her blade to where it needed to be. As their movements grew more heated and fluid, they both traded a few jabs that made contact with skin. Even on low energy, when the sabers bit, the pain conducted itself swiftly along nerve endings and radiated through her like a silent shockwave. Elori allowed herself to wince, but only for a fraction of a second, and willed her eyes to remain open whenever it happened.

Revan never winced once.

She tried to break through with an upwards sweep. Transferring weight to her left foot and positioning the other behind her to catch her when she came down; she knew it would reveal a false, unguarded gap. Most of her counterparts couldn't resist the bait; and if she was faster than they were, more agile than they were, the duel could end right then and there. But Revan parried it deftly. The same move from a different angle yielded identical results. The Force was with her – it slowed her world down and bought her the time required to move into place – but it wasn’t enough. At the tail-end of every attack Revan’s saber was there to greet hers. What was more concerning was the indisputable fact that it was _she_ who was mostly on the defensive. His blows drove her further and further back. It was as if he was keyed into the movement of her own muscles; using his connection to the Force as a conduit that betrayed every motion she made.

Prescience of this sort was normal for the Force sensitive, but Revan seemed three, four moves ahead of her. It was uncanny. And disheartening. Several more minutes of this and he would wear her down. And then she’d be his for the taking.

 _He’s got every advantage against you. He’ll stop every blow, every strike. He has size, skill and the Force. He’s fire and fury_ –

– _A fire requires three elements to ignite. Heat, fuel and oxygen. Remove any of these instigators and you’d extinguish it_.

Elori swallowed. There _was_ one way to tip the odds in her favour.

It was a technique she’d practiced when no one was around – secretly ashamed that she’d given in and even considered the idea. But Elori was a worrier. And one weapon she used to combat it was to plan. To try and predict every logical outcome imaginable. Two years ago, an Echani warrior had been admitted to the Temple. He was permitted to watch some of the duels and even educated a small class of students in several hand-to-hand tactics. He was an arrogant man who claimed that training to rely on the Force so heavily would be the Jedi’s downfall. That the Jedi would do well to throw away such crutches from time to time and appreciate the superiority of unadulterated skill.

Also, he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

Blinding herself to the Force – even partially – had been tremendously difficult to achieve. It was like holding your breath underwater; suffocating each of your senses, losing them one by one until all that remained was sheer will alone. Each time she did it, however, it got a little easier. She could never cut herself off fully or for very long – eventually she would come up for air. But it was an unexpected ally in a scrap or whenever she needed a bulwark for her thoughts. There were plenty of Jedi meditative practices that did the same, but none of those seemed to consider that to defend against the Force you may have to take it out of play entirely. Even if it meant releasing it from your own grasp.

She’d never before done it this way, though. Most days, it was a solitary employment of her time, an end of the day sort of thing triggered by self-rumination. There were no advancing adversaries, no sabers whirling and clashing, and most importantly, no eyes watching her. But what if she failed?

 _We must try_.

 _Alright then_. _Hold onto your butts._

She ran forward in a calculable line, an open charge only worthy of an unschooled youngling. As the room swept past her, slowing in increasing degrees while the Force built itself up, she inhaled as deeply as she could...and struck it down. When Elori Mataki connected with Revan and scorching pinpoints of light exploded past the edges of her vision, it was in a vacuum of her making. It was on _her_ field, _her_ terms. They locked blades together for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes fixated on every twitch, every grimace he unconsciously revealed.

_Who’s wincing now?_

He staggered back, still caught in her bind, still resisting her. But his conviction seemed to recede. She didn’t think she was _siphoning_ the Force from him – if anything, she’d cut off his access to her by quelling her own. _Not important now_. She jerked away abruptly, leaping backwards as she did so. He stumbled without falling; his eyes refusing to meet hers. Her open window was closing rapidly so she rushed in with two well-practiced feints executed solely with discipline and ordained by her mind. Under any other circumstances he would never have taken the bait. Scrambling for balance, Revan was only just able to sweep aside the attack by twisting his body sideways, leaving his knees slightly bent and feet aligned too close to each other.

She now had him where she wanted him. As she swerved to one side, she kicked out with one leg, her foot making neat contact with the back of his knee. He buckled but did not sprawl. The void the Force once occupied was stifling now, much more of this and a puff of wind would be able to knock her over.

 _Just a bit longer_.

She threw in all she had, all she knew, to unleash an armada of strikes and counterstrikes at him. There was no Force, no black, no white. Only an objective persistence she’d never felt before. Even Revan, the person, fell into a backdrop – evolving into something purer; a maelstrom of waves in an ocean she had managed to throw into turmoil. She felt like a candle in the darkness that didn’t just burn because it could, but because it _should_.

Blows glanced off of her but felt like pinpricks. Blue and green swathes of light danced together, tempos increasing. Revan placed one foot behind the other, backpedaling – the only path she left open for him. He sensed the wall at his back before it reached out, and when his heel met it, he swatted aside another incursion, leaving his left arm extended and his body exposed. But it was a desperate gamble on her part since their stances now mirrored one another. He’d only just realized it when she entwined her wrist deftly around his own – sabers still in each of their hands. She switched her blade off in mid-twist and tugged. Up, around and under. Now she was almost behind him, his arm at her mercy. His body contorted in pain under the guidance of her free foot. If his hand remained at that impossible angle any longer, his wrist would snap.

He watched in disbelief as he relinquished his grip on the weapon. Its green glow vanished before it hit the ground, bouncing once before coming to rest. She was still behind him, her light strong once more, held so closely to his throat that its hum was deafening and its glow blinding. Someone called out to them. It was over. He turned, hearing her gasp for air and wobble backwards before bending over and grabbing her knees. Panting, she flung her own lightsaber to one side, where it clattered across the floor.

“So,” he managed through his own ragged breaths, “Toast, huh?”

* * *

**Council Chambers, the Jedi Temple**

**Later that evening**

_Just take them on their terms and don’t let Vrook bait you_ , Revan had said to her earlier.

Elori stepped into the rotunda’s center and genuflected before them; a touch grateful that only four faces had gathered to meet her. If all the seats had been occupied, she would have had to make a mad dash for the fresher – decorum be damned.

She was subdued yet besieged by a crazed anxiety. This verbal exchange about to take place was customary after each stage of the tournament. But many took it as another shorter test of sorts, designed to extract an initiate’s verdict on their own performance before judgment was rendered by their instructors.

At best, it was a rather daunting and humiliating experience. At _slightly bad,_ signs of impudence or enmity could void whatever had already been accomplished in the tourney and postpone the trials. It wasn't disastrous, but having to repeat your lessons with students half your age wasn’t exactly great for morale. At worst, if they thought her undeserving of second chances, there’d be a farm out there with her name on it.

But what if they threw her out permanently? They knew about what she’d done in the melee, didn’t they? What if they had a compendium of obscure laws, and under subsection R, article twelve, it read: “Do not cut off your connection to the Force. _Ever._ ”?

“That was a rather unconventional win, don’t you think?” began Master Prematha.

She waited for the others to chime in, but none of them did. “I guess it was...?” Elori said, with rising inflection and very, _very_ cold hands.

“Where did you learn it?” shot Vrook wasting no time on preamble.

 _All hands brace for impact_. “Sort of by accident. After that silat class with the Echani. He didn’t teach us the technique. He just said it could be done, and that we shouldn’t depend on the Force alone.” She unconsciously rubbed her shoulder. “So I tried it once. I don’t think I managed it for longer than a minute.”

“Just the once?” asked the Trandoshan Jedi, Shreem.

“And maybe a few times after that. Every night since actually, if I was able to.” Elori paled and began a studious examination of the floor.

“What did you think you could gain from it?”

“I thought it would come in handy if I was in trouble.”

Vrook scoffed. “When you’re in trouble? Did it ever occur to you that this method of yours would be _useless_ if you ran up against an adversary who wasn’t Force sensitive? What would you do then?”

“Uh...improvise.”

“Improvise is a lazy word for ignorance. When you say _improvise_ , all I see is a lack of discipline and planning.”

Prematha touched her blue and white lekku absent-mindedly, and smiled. “What I think Master Vrook is trying to say is that you hazarded a guess on something you don’t know anything about. What if, by closing yourself off to the Force, it couldn’t warn you of an attack at your flank? How would you handle that? Or what if your transitions became permanent? Severing these ties completely have proved lethal in the past.”

Elori looked ahead towards the immense windows. Rain drummed down its outer surface – creating an impromptu mirror for her to see how truly small she appeared. “There’s risk to everything in life. And we, as Jedi, walk that line every day, right? I guess I don’t see the difference between you risking your life for an innocent, and my learning new skills to do the same in the future. As for how I’d deal with a flank attack...I’d fight how any Republic soldier would fight. Or the Echani.”

“...or the Mandalorians, or the Sith.” droned Vrook.

“Now that would seem a little unfair,” spoke Djani for the first time. “Master Vrook, you're reaching. Malleability is useful for survival. Stand too rigid in the wind and you’ll snap in two.”

Elori deftly took advantage of what looked like receding hostilities. On Djani’s side, at least. “I don’t know how they fight without the Force, but I’m willing to learn _and_ listen to whatever you are able to teach me. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you first when I made my decision. It wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve had; to think I could learn on my own.”

“A soldier who fights without the Force isn’t making a conscious choice to do so. He just does because he knows no other way. For a Jedi to undertake it can prove to be very unpleasant, as I’m sure you know. It can also be equally unpalatable for a teacher.”

Prematha chimed in. “Every time you make this choice to withdraw from it, you create ripples. Any Force sensitive that stands too close to its epicenter will suffer its effects unless they’re trained to guard against it.”

“Does it leech the Force out of them?”

Prematha shook her head. “No, but it can create an unnatural vacuum. Unnatural to us only, however.”

Vrook’s features creased in displeasure. “If you teach her this, you’ll have to teach it to every student that walks through those doors. It would be a foolish endeavour.”

“You’re not wrong, but we haven’t promised to teach anyone anything. _Yet_.” Djani turned to Elori, the faintest traces of a smile in place. “For now, you will have to make do with the knowledge that we will _consider_ it. Until then, I would caution you against its use.”

She dipped her head in respect. “Yes, Master.”

“I suppose all that is left now is the matter of your progress,” said Shreem – slapping her hands decidedly on her legs. “Do you think you deserved to win?”

 _Careful now_. “Victory is fine – I mean, it feels good to have won, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it’s the path that got me there that mattered. It’s like playing dejarik. I usually enjoy the company, I enjoy ribbing my friends. Maybe a win’s waiting for me at the end of it or maybe it’s not. But I got some fun out of it, so it’s never a total loss.”

“That would be the trite answer.” Vrook thinned his lips.

“But she speaks the truth,” said Djani. Then, looking at Elori, “But tell me this. What if we were to postpone your part in the trials and told you that we don’t think you prepared for the next step?”

She could _feel_ it; the gavel hanging frozen in mid-air. If she could have yanked it down, she would have. She took in a deep breath. “I’m not going to be happy about it – can’t deny that. But if I have to do all of it again next year, I will. And I’ll try not to make the same mistakes.”

“What you did today wasn’t a mistake, child, although I can only speak for myself. It was perhaps a little...unorthodox. We sensed no malicious intent from you during your duel, which counts largely in your favour. I myself may have employed a few deceptions during my own trials.” Djani remarked. “And it wasn’t as if Revan wasn’t manipulating you either.”

“What are you saying?” asked a befuddled Elori.

Djani stretched in her seat. “I’m saying that tomorrow you’ll be off to Ploorid III to begin the next stage of your testing. You may want to pack for cooler climes. I’ve heard that the dark side of that world can get quite chilly.”


	4. Revan, Elori

_Almost_ as soon as they came out of hyperspace, the ion engines kicked in. The transition was jarring. The _Caliban’s_ light sails were somewhat dated, and it tended to leech more than its due from the main power when resurrected. Consequently, the overhead lights would flicker, life support operations went comatose, inertial dampener revolutions slowed bringing about a brief foray in null-g, and a few basic input-output systems would reboot to their default settings. Though the switch was momentary, furious crimson diagnostic bulbs lit up in protest. Its pilot had to manually enter some baseline readings – which he’d written down on a worn scrap of paper and had pinned to a small overhead locker – to pacify each indignant component.

“Maybe that’s the real test,” Revan whispered to Elori, leaning into her side, movement hindered by his flight harness. The cabin was steeped in an ominous shade of red; emergency lighting did not appear to have been reset. The pair had triple-checked their safety straps; once on breaking past atmo, then again on entering hyperspace and finally when their feet lifted off the ground for five seconds. At this point, even a routine groan from the ship’s hull was enough to warrant another inspection. “We are to accept death and become one with the Force or use it to keep this flying teakettle operational.”

She quietly glanced about the cabin, a little wide-eyed; afraid that even a fifty-decibel leveled sound wave could turn out to be the straw that broke the Caliban’s back. Masters Djani and Prematha were seated across from her, but her vision was mostly blocked by a laminasteel bulkhead. The sight of Djani’s right boot, however, brought no comfort.

She turned to look out the starboard window behind her. Ploorid III was coming up on them fast. Half of the planet was near-invisible; its hemisphere shrouded in darkness thanks to being tidally-locked by its larger counterpart, Ploorid II. As the world began to occupy more of her vision through the window, she could see a few low-orbiting ships clustered at the center of one land mass – perhaps that was the port capital.

Elori realized that if they were close enough to identify such vessels, then they were about to break into the planet’s atmo.

Almost on cue, their feet floated up, a panel just outside the engine room chirped in irritated intervals and the Caliban howled and shook as if she had come under a relentless barrage of enemy fire.

“Did it do that before?” Elori asked no one in particular – voice a little high-pitched. Her words ran together; speeding up, breathless. “This never happened when we left Coruscant. I think our outer hull’s toast. Used it up when we left Coruscant. We’ve got nothing protecting us during re-entry. Zero, zip, zippo.”

Revan, his knuckles pale from clutching the edge of his seat, wasn’t having the time of his life either. Or perhaps she was just contagious.

He did brave a few words low and under his breath, which was more than she could manage. “If we live through this, I promise to return that droid security interface I stole. And I’ll never ever flirt again.”

* * *

**Cobek Minor, Ploorid III**

The officer Elori had seen three standard days earlier had suggested that their small party try to attract as little attention as possible, and drifted into the rental shop alone. Not knowing when he’d reappear, and in preparation for a reasonable wait, she began a closer observation of her surroundings. In the afternoon sun, she saw a human on the street corner who was kneeling down, huddled over an obscured object. Straightening up, he then began to kick viciously at an angular mass that grinded out a series of damaged beeps.

The pair had Revan’s attention now too, who was scowling. He took a step in their direction.

Djani’s hand quickly came down on his shoulder and, turning him to face her, she shook her head at him, _no._ He huffed and once more with his back to their superior, rolled his eyes for Elori’s benefit.

Elori, not quite at the same level as boredom as her friend, took in the empty dock to their left. A few brightly-coloured boats – all no more than two- to four-seaters – were moored to masts, bobbing patiently in the water, waiting to be put to use. Passers-by were also low in number given the time of day. There were no larger crafts up in the distance either, which seemed unusual given that Ploorid III was almost eighty-percent water.

Ploorid III’s surface only sustained two continental masses. The rest of the planet had been conquered by vast oceans; able to claim such territory due to the effect of two centuries of rising temperatures on ice caps. Cobek Major was its port capital and saw to a low influx of trade. It was a technological permutation of Cobek Minor which, in contrast, took a minimalist approach to progressive automation. The former had allowed for the construction of two industrial districts which housed mineral purification plants, administrative centers, a few factories that produced necessary amenities and a harbour which could have served as an advantageous port of call for intersystem vessels. _If_ they ever saw more than one a week. As things stood, it wasn’t able to bring in the credits that the planet was in desperate need of.

The Republic had made a considerable investment in Ploorid III. They intended to secure stronger holds on such Outer Rim worlds; possibly to create a central base from which they could operate without having to depend on distant supply lines from planets like Coruscant, or the borrowed generosity of private corporations. They pictured another Taris; a singular beacon of the Republic’s extended presence. Or at least, that was the official explanation. Unofficially, it served as a strategically placed watchtower. The Sith may have vanished, but there were other hungry adversaries out there. The Hutts, for example, saw ripe opportunities for expansion now that the two warring fronts, both significantly weakened, had taken a breather. Unlike Taris, however, the Republic desired a world that boasted an egalitarian veneer, but was covertly managed by totalitarian legislature. Once up and running, the project took off with a bang. Migration incentives had been offered and a few enthusiastic masses – half the percentage being Miralukan – showed up on Ploorid III’s doorstep, eager for new beginnings. Most of the population was put to work with very few unemployed.

But then the economy shifted. The sizeable returns the Republic had promised themselves never showed. Profits aside, they couldn’t match _half_ of what they’d sunk into the colony and gave even the most unrealistic corporate dream a good run for its money. To recoup some of their financial losses, they imposed an increased cost of living on its citizens. This dial had been turned up too quickly, however, and Ploorid III’s people felt its effects almost instantly. Without a show of force, the Republic’s feeble presence could not stop some from leaving entirely. But the majority – those who couldn’t afford to relocate offworld – took to settling in rural regions and turned to agrarian pursuits as a more stable means of survival. They established their own capital, Cobek Minor, an illegitimate child of sorts, which the Republic did not suppress in time.

Business on the planet was now conducted by clan leaders; the only accepted platforms on which affairs could be discussed and rules enacted. As the Republic realized that their grasp on this world was slipping, their bureaucrats, soldiers and military personnel trickled off to greener pastures. Only a token force remained and these stayed by choice. People like their ex-officer – Lieutenant Harata, or _Just_ Harata as he often corrected since the trappings of rank were now obsolete – discovered that the difference between the ideals and deeds of the Republic were too incongruent to be ignored. Where they saw numbers, he saw people. So, he stuck around, helping wherever help was needed.

“When did you lose contact, precisely?” said Prematha loudly so as to be overheard above the streaming winds. The air grew chillier by the mile. The Togrutan Jedi pulled her hood over her lekku.

Harata looked briefly over his shoulder as he drove. “Not more than a day ago. The trackers went dead too. I checked to see if our satellites are still operational, and saw no problems there.”

“What about interference?” queried Djani, adjusting the tight bun at the nape of her neck. The speeder dipped slightly as they descended onto an unkempt field.

“Nightside only has a few pockets of farmsteads. No sunlight means slow growth, so maybe there are a few mirror greenhouses to maintain. But dayside produces more electromagnetic radiation than the other half. So, if it _is_ interference, I don’t know what’s causing it.”

“Could it be atmospheric?” Elori added, adjusting the oversized goggles that had been provided.

“Could be,” admitted Harata. “It just feels like it’s none of those. You ever get that? Bad feelings? Huh, look who I’m talking to. ‘Course you do.”

Prematha took a sip of water from a bronze canteen. “I got the report you beamed over, but it didn’t say anything about criminal elements.”

“That’s because there aren't any.”

“Local militia keeping it all in check?” asked Djani.

“Nope. No commerce, no crime. Disputes are settled town-hall style in Cobek Minor on a monthly basis. We have a democratically elected committee to help oversee these things. Worst it ever got was some minor border friction between tribes. A couple of toes got stepped on, but we sorted it out. You’ve got to understand – none of these people want to fight each other. Their parents were among the first colonizers and each one of them probably has a cousin in every prefecture.” 

“But what about the cortosis mines? You’ve got to have spacers crawling all over those, right? Probably as good a reason as any for a skirmish.” said Elori, swatting aside her wind-whipped hair. She was hoping Djani had picked up on the astute question. She intended to angle her way into the Jedi’s good graces. The woman seemed like she’d make a good teacher.

“Yeah...about that,” started Harata, gazing at the distance ahead of him. “I might’ve lied a little.”

Elori and Revan exchanged glances, staying silent.

“How little?” asked Djani.

“Okay, a lot. I uh...don’t know many Jedi. I knew people who did, but I burned a lot of bridges when I left the Republic. And one of my commanding officers had it in for me. Or maybe everyone just wanted to forget about this planet – sweep it under the rug. Whatever their reasons, they wouldn’t listen to me. Even after two villages went dark. So I figure that I have to speak their language.”

“Money.”

“Yeah. Your Republic’s got to make up for lost revenue, right? You had the Sith Wars, buried projects like Ploorid III, a lot of money going down the john. You figure that they wouldn’t be able to resist making a quick buck. And a cortosis mine will _really_ bring in those credits. Got an immediate dispatch back saying that they’re going to send a few reinforcements our way. Didn’t expect it to be Jedi, but I can’t complain. Your Republic came through on one front at least.”

Elori let out a dry laugh. Whenever the Republic exposed their uglier, more cutthroat side, they got – understandably – tossed into someone else’s hands. Often metaphorically and sometimes literally. _Here comes the hot potato of governing bodies; he’s **your** problem, not mine_.

“How did you convince them?”

“Faked some mineral readouts with a little help. There are a lot of talented people here, Jedi. Lots of good folk that you left behind.”

“ _We_ didn’t – ” cried Revan before Prematha motioned for him to stop.

They drove in uncomfortable reticence for several moments until Harata broke through. “So uh...what does this mean now? Want me to turn the speeder around?”

“No.” stated Djani. “We came to help, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

* * *

In the cold and clammy haze of _not_ -morning – the only word she could use to describe this unnatural darkness – pastoral inclines eventually gave way to a road. Well, not in the conventional sense. These were narrow gravel paths, flanked by a still ocean on one side and unending grasslands on the other. The speeder began to slow and, in its light, they caught sight of ramshackle wooden posts linked together by metal wire. A few lamps sat on every other pole; their glow extinguished.

The rudimentary fences evolved in height and quality. Thicker trunks, shaved down to fine points at the top, had been hammered together to create an enclosure. The barricades were only half-finished; a patch-up job filled gaps in its wall with crudely welded sheet metal.

“I better get in there first. They know I’m bringing help, but they’re cautious. Especially lately.” Harata climbed out and pushed a gate open before calling out in greeting.

“How big’s the local militia?” asked Revan, turning to Prematha.

“Not very. People like Harata trained a handful in every village. Enough to deal with some of the local wildlife, perhaps, but something more...I don’t know.”

“ _You!_ You can’t be here! You must get away – get away now!” A shadow appeared under a dim fluorescent light. It betrayed a thin, staggering frame with a misshapen, long arm. It took them about a quarter of a minute to piece together that the arm was actually a three foot-long crutch.

“Purta, it’s me. Harata.” He held up his hands in placation.

“I don’t care.” The wiry old creature, gesticulating wildly with his cane, pointed in the direction of a few bungalows; elevated on wooden pilings to prevent tidal damage. “You tell them they can’t bring they children here. They be bad luck. They be our death.”

“Purta, these are Jedi. I brought them to help,” Harata beckoned Elori and Revan to step forward. Djani and Prematha followed close behind. “See? Soldiers in training. And these are their masters.”

“Not they! The young ones.” He shook his cane once more before stamping it into the ground. Dust stirred up in small plumes under the lamplight.

“Okay, Purta, okay. Where are Sasha and the others?”

“They leave after Clan Idresh disappeared yesterday. They be gone for hours, then they come back with those children. Then they be gone again yesterday night. You take them children and you put them away. Away from us.”

“Who’s Sasha?” whispered Elori.

“Head of her clan and the local militia.” replied Djani, her face inscrutable.

Harata’s feet moved slowly at first. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. Take them children.”

“What about Sam, Kell, Teebo? Where are the others?” Refusing to wait for answers, Harata broke into a jog in the middle of the small clearing and approached the first hut on their left. Climbing up its steps, he flung open doors to darkened interiors that paid no attention to names. He did the same to the next, and the next, and the next.

“She gone. Even Golata gone.”

“How can she be gone? _I told her to wait!_ ”

“Lieutenant Harata, I need you to find these children he’s talking about. Revan and Elori will go with you. When you’ve done that, let’s all meet back up at Purta’s home.” said Djani authoritatively. “Prem, radio the Caliban right now. They’re probably resupplying at Cobek Major. I want them refueled and ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“We’re _leaving?”_ asked an incredulous Revan.

“No. But there are bigger things going on here than meets the eye.” She gave Prematha a meaningful look.

“Yes, I feel it too.”

* * *

Djani and Prematha sat at a square table for four. A narrow gas stove, beaten cabinetry, two crates of vegetables and a stacked tower of unwashed dishes surrounded them. The old man turned off all lights, both indoors and outdoors, and only permitted one gas lamp between two people. It burned away impassively, casting dancing shadows at all it touched.

“Perhaps we should alert home base,” said the Togrutan Jedi.

“We have no information to give, and transmitting out here is going to be a problem. Only Major has enough credits to maintain hyperspace comms, remember?” She rubbed her temples. “What would we say anyway?”

“We could at least transmit an update to the Caliban after we decide what to do.”

At that moment, seven bodies piled themselves into the cramped kitchen. Revan herded three white-haired children to the forefront, presenting them to the two masters. Two girls and a boy, no more than seven years old. The girls stood quiet and still. Their eyes darted about, carefully assessing the strangers before them. But the boy’s face widened into an unguarded smile and in two steps, he was at Prematha’s side.

“Are you a Jedi?”

“Yes, I am. How would you know that?”

“I can see,” he turned and pointed to his two companions. “They can see too.”

“Miralukans are a Force-sensitive race.” explained Djani to Harata. Her eyes flicked to Purta who remained just beyond the kitchen’s entryway, taking his aggravation out on something he was chewing. Djani jerked her chin in his direction. “He knows it too.”

“We did a supply drop one time on Katarr. Heard about them, but...” he shook his head. It didn’t matter.

“That would explain how they escaped,” guessed Prematha.

“Where are your parents, child?” queried Djani as she retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped a dark smudge just under the boy’s left eye.

“Gone.”

“Ah. And are these your siblings?”

“No. My neighbours. They’re twins. That means they were born at the same time.”

“Which clan were you a part of?”

“Clan Prosset. And yes, they’re gone too.” He stretched out and touched her garb. “Where’s your lightsaber?”

Harata interrupted. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Girl.”

Purta, still an attentive bystander, leaned forward on his stick and scoffed.

“But you’re a – ” started Revan.

“My name’s _Girl_.” he insisted. “And that’s Kuno and Kirai.”

“Okay. Girl, can you tell us what happened and how you three got here?”

He glanced at Harata. “Your girlfriend came with some of her friends. They were looking for someone but I don’t know who. They killed the guards and found us in our room. They unlocked it and let us free.” All eyes on him now, he proceeded, pleased at the attention he was never accustomed to getting. “So they let us out, and they had an argument. They left some at the camp and the others brought us here. She said we would be safe.”

“Clan Prosset’s not nightside.” said Harata. “Who had you locked in?”

Girl’s face darkened. He fished out a circular object from his pocket and handed it to the ex-lieutenant.

His fingers bent around it tightly. The pause that followed was respectful, but they all knew what needed to be done, and done quickly. He placed the holo recorder on the table and hit play.

The figure of a slender woman with loosely braided hair came to life. Even through shades of monochromatic blue, her body language divulged fear. She thumped the butt of her blaster absently against her thigh as she spoke.

“ _I don’t know who’s going to get this, but Driggs, I sure hope it’s you. I know you wanted me to wait, but we got a message from some folk down at Major. And they said that they recorded some abnormal seismic readings nightside. They weren’t big enough to cause any aftershocks, the sirens never went off, and they said they didn’t think it was an earthquake either. But they were able to transmit a rough location of its source to us_.

“ _We plotted the coordinates...and...it’s right between where both clans dropped off the radar. I sent Cleo and all her boys back to Major before I left. Purta wouldn’t leave. They had to use the speeders to get there, but we hid a few bikes down by the pier. In case someone needs them.”_

She closed her eyes for spell. _“I know. I **know** you told me to wait, but I knew it couldn’t be pure coincidence – tribes disappearing and now this? And we were right. We’re in zone B-42 right now. We found a camp that must have been set up sometime between last week and yesterday. Mandalorians, Driggs. They’re well-armed and they’re here. On our soil_.”

She stooped over, half of her image obscured before straightening and lifting a domed helmet, the visor in a distinctive T. She held it aloft with both hands for the recorder's benefit.

“ _We killed three and lost five_.” She threw the helmet aside. “ _And they had children locked up. Miralukan. We don’t know why. **Yet**. The kids we rescued said that there are more like them, possibly in other camps...but they don’t know where. We don’t really have time to go searching for them, at least not until we know more. Or until you’re back and we can regroup. Kell’s managed to modify a tracker that will ping our location to the comconsole in Smith’s garage every five minutes instead of every fifteen. We’ve attached it to our speeder. When we get to Clan Idresh, we’re going to park about a mile south and go the rest of the way on foot. You should be able to find us easy. Unless the speeder gets ambushed and...well, you understand_.

“ _I don’t want you to worry_ ,” she laughed – the sound tinny but pleasant, “ _Well, I don’t want you to worry too much. We’re not going to charge into a Mandalorian horde. It’ll be a recon mission, like the ones you used to tell me about when you were a soldier. And if anything happens, I’ll send up a few flares. But we won’t need them. With a little luck, we should be back home by tomorrow night. I love you, Republic. See you soon._ ” She held two fingers to her lips and then across to the camera. The image stretched out into a flat, luminous line, and disappeared.

Almost everyone in the room let out a collective breath. Except one. Harata’s head hung low, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Tomorrow night would be...tonight. Right?” said Revan. “So there’s still time.”

“We should head over to the garage.” Harata addressed Djani and Prematha: “If those pings aren’t moving in our direction, I’m going. With or without you.”

* * *

Smith Teebo _used_ to keep an organized workshop. True to his name, his forte lay in working metal but he was obviously an enterprising tinkerer too. Unshaped mullinine lay haphazardly along a metal storage rack, several power cells had been stripped for diatium, and some ingots that Revan and Elori didn’t recognize were heaped inside a duraplast crate. A modest forge was ensconced in a corner of the L-shaped hut as well as a generator to its left. Layers of soot had spread at its base and it looked as if it had seen recent use. Apart from that, other instruments – bellows, tongs, chisels and varied swages – were shelved or hung neatly on hooks and wooden pegs; properly labeled and untouched. A place for everything and everything in its place. But Sasha and her friends had come through here in a hurry, clearly to arm themselves well, leaving few weapons behind other than tools.

Harata and Djani – Prematha remained outdoors to keep an eye out for trouble – crossed the room to a comconsole against the wall. Revan placed his lamp onto a worktable – the light shining down on a carbon-scored agrinium head. The back panel had been removed and photoreceptors wired to two narrow slits were strewn across the surface; a mechanical gorefest that most organic beings were immune to.

“You know what this is?” grinned Revan, making room for Elori to take a closer look. “It’s an HK unit. Well, part of it anyway. This stuff is hard to come by.”

“HK?”

“A Hunter Killer droid. Assassin droids with embedded protocol-driven motivators. _Pardon me, ma’am, I’ve brought you your tea **and** your inevitable demise.”_

Elori eyed him warily. “You look way too happy about this. It’s not normal.”

He ignored her. “I’ve only ever seen one and that was offworld too. I wonder...” Revan stepped to a side and rummaged around the table. Picking up a circuit board and a handful of wires he busied himself, squinting in the poor light, and inserted them into their respective slots. “Sockets are backwards compatible. Which means we got lucky since a lot these connections will still work.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

He chuckled, ran off and plugged something into the generator and switched it on. The droid’s gears whirred and its photoreceptors came to life, throwing their side of the room into a bright light.

“Confused statement: I don’t know where you are, Oontam, but I _will_ find you and dismember you. It is only a matter of time.”

Elori jumped back and both Harata and Djani swung around.

“ _Revan!_ ” hissed the Jedi Master. She gave him a look that lay someplace between incredulity and I’m-going-to-knock-your-block-off-in-a-minute.

The boy hastily turned the generator off and the unit’s eyes went dark. Skulking sheepishly back to Elori’s side, he whispered, “His memory’s still intact. Audio receptors and drivers are working too. We could stick his head onto a motorized frame, put a blaster in his hand and watch him to go to town on this Oontam guy.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s not, and say we didn’t.”

Djani beckoned for the pair to join them. She pointed to a dusty screen where a red triangle pulsed every ten seconds. It lay entrenched in the grid, unmoving. “Looks like it’s been there for a good couple of hours.”

“Radio out?” asked Elori.

Harata nodded.

Elori started a low, near inaudible hum, hanging back. Revan knew that it meant she was either worried, thinking, or both. She looked but didn’t look at the blip, turning and twisting the problem in mind space. Two to three hours didn’t have to mean that Sasha’s group had been ambushed. They were supposed to go on foot anyway, right? And the fact that the speeder’s tracker was still active could mean that it was hidden out of sight or that it had been taken and not destroyed. If case one was correct, would they leave a man behind commissioning him to be their getaway driver? Probably. If case two was true, whoever took the speeder very likely didn’t know about the tracker at all.

Djani studied the man; his core radiating fear and uncertainty. “They could still come back, Driggs.”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s happened to them.”

“Yeah.”

“If we ran out there, what if something happens and we miss them? Say, if they decide to walk back, take a different route or – ”

“Or run into some well-placed anti-tank mines.” he finished. “Mandos love those.”

Djani swallowed. What was there to say, really? If it wasn’t for the Mandalorians’ presence, this could have proved to be much simpler. And safer. All that was going through Harata’s mind right now didn’t feel too off the mark. “You want to go looking for her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. It could just be the two of us. Leave your friend and your padawans here with Purta and the kids. Then if the others get back, they can radio us and we’ll turn around. Head straight back and regroup like Sasha said.”

Djani placed her hands on her hips and sighed. She nodded. “Alright. But Prem’s coming with us. I don’t like the odds of the two of us against Force knows how many of them.” She eyed Revan and Elori with a wan smile. “Think you two are up for babysitting some Force-sensitive children and an eccentric curmudgeon?”

Elori tried to stifle a desperate laugh. “When you put it like that, how can we refuse?”

* * *

Djani planted two reassuring hands on Elori’s shoulders and squeezed. Bending down to eye-level, she attempted confidence. “Unless we ask for radio silence, you should be able to reach us anytime. I’ve sent word to the Caliban to hang about in low orbit for a while – it should strengthen triangulation range. If we’re not back within a day and a half, I want you to contact them and leave the planet.”

Djani straightened and Prematha ruffled Revan’s hair. He swatted at her hand in playful annoyance before she took his chin in her hand, her face grave. “We want no heroics out of either of you. We mean it. If anything happens between now and our day-and-a-half, gather everyone, get on that ship and _leave_.”

“Can’t we just board the Caliban and run a few short-range EM scans?” questioned Revan.

“The Caliban’s not equipped to do this stealthily. She may even have to get in quite close. And I don’t like the idea – Mandolorians come prepared. If we scan them, they’ll know and they’re liable to have the tech to scan us back.” explained Prematha. “And then they’ll waste no time in gunning the ship down.”

“Mandos don’t lug autocannons everywhere.”

“Who needs autocannons when you have target-locked launchers,” said Elori, as she counted on her fingers, “armed recon drones, five-hundred kilowatt beams to cook you alive if you’re inside _any_ unshielded civilian ship? And then there’s – ”

“Okay, okay.”

Djani examined her lightsaber. “You have those maps that Harata transferred to your terminal?” Satisfied, she clipped it back to her belt.

Revan nodded. The ex-Republic marine had sent them both duplicates of the village map – small as it was, and of the surrounding terrain.

“Good. And do you remember the access code to the storage compartment in the granary?”

“Yup. We can hide ourselves there too, if we have to.”

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that. Don’t stray too far from this place unless it’s absolute necessary. And if you do, don’t forget to deactivate the proximity sensors. How about the backup emergency frequencies to reach the Caliban?”

“Master, it was in an information packet you transmitted to us _before_ we left Coruscant.”

“Ah, yes.” Djani smiled and tightened her hair bun. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. This wasn’t the trial that Prem and I had in mind. It isn’t fair that both of you have been thrust into this position. We’re asking a lot from you, and in too short a time.”

“How could you have known?” said Elori. “Sometimes there’s only one choice.”

“What about the choice to not make one?”

“It doesn’t exist. Now right now.”

Djani stared at her for a long moment.

Her reverie was quickly shattered by a cry from Harata who’d just finished loading items into the speeder. The entire party followed his line of sight, up towards the skies. A smoky trail, culminating in a crimson burst of stars burned severely for several seconds before dying. Then they watched in reverent silence as another lurched higher and higher.

Flares.

“It’s her. I _know_ it.” Harata glanced at the two Jedi. “We need to leave.”

“No...” mumbled Prematha, touching her lekku for comfort.

“What is it?” asked Djani.

“Too close. It’s too close. Each grid we saw represents ten klicks, isn’t that so? The tracker’s _two hundred_ kilometers out. Lieutenant, where were the flares launched from?”

He dug around in the speeder for a pair of macrobinoculars and spoke as he did so. “A forest, I think. Give me a minute.” He quickly peered through the device. “Yeah, there’s an inlet that goes in there. It’s only about thirty klicks away.”

“They must be on foot. Something’s gone wrong.”

“Alright then.” breathed Djani. “Let’s get a move on.” The two Jedi climbed into the speeder with Harata at its helm, and disappeared into the distance.

* * *

Elori and Revan gazed at where the speeder had sat for a long time. With the three children indoors and Purta at Force knew where, Ploorid III’s local nightlife - consisting of cicadas and bullfrogs - built up in crescendo, fueled by the pair’s silence. The sea itself, not more than a hundred meters away and with its own rendition of iambic pentameter, joined in.

“So what do you think they wanted for us?” asked Revan.

“What do you mean?”

“Our trials. Remember that stuff Alek was talking about before? How he overheard Vrook saying they wanted to test loyalty and sacrifice? How wide off target do you think we are?”

 _Alek_. She hadn’t really given him any thought until now. In fact, she hadn’t given much thought to anything that lay beyond this planet. The idea that he too was probably lamenting about his own odds during the Council’s tests, cheered her. It meant that _home_ was waiting for them. And that all their difficulties were worth wading through to keep that home safe.

Shifting sentimentalities on top of backburners, she crouched to pick up two rocks; one in each hand. With an amused expression, she held the left one aloft with the force – rotating it calmly. “This is where their expectations were.” Clutching the second pebble in her right hand, she pulled her arm backwards into a taut position, and released. Together with the stone’s momentum and a Force-led boost, the rock sailed through the air and fell with a distant, yet resounding, plop into the ocean. “And that’s where it actually landed.”

“Well, shit.”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Everything that _can_ go wrong...”

“... _will_ go wrong.”

On cue, a voice shouted in the darkness. “Hey, guys! Watch me!”

Both pairs of eyes settled on Girl, who stood on the rooftop of one of the bungalows. _Dangerously_ close to its edge.

“You get down right now!” yelled Revan.

“Watch me!” With that, he leapt, arms and legs circling in mid-air, until he landed...three feet off the ground. He squealed with laughter.

“ _What the hell?!”_ screeched Elori. She looked to Revan, grateful that he’d had the presence of mind to halt the child’s rapid descent. But Revan looked equally perplexed.

The boy – arms and legs outstretched – had a wide grin stretched across his face. “Do you think I could be a Jedi?” Gravity soon back in operation, and Girl’s legs planted firmly onto the ground, he scrambled up to them.

Elori, the whites of her eyes still disproportionately large and with blood pounding in her ears, could only breathe heavily.

“You’d make a great Jedi,” spluttered Revan, “if you don’t kill your teachers first.”

“Don’t mind him,” said a quiet voice from the doorway of a hut. It was one of the twins: Kirai. “He does it for attention.”

Before Elori or Revan could pull out the bedtime card, the young girl spoke. “I’m hungry.”

* * *

Revan – his fate decided through the toss of a coin – set the hot plates of steamed vegetables down onto the rickety table. As the six individuals crowded around their meal, only the sounds of clinking cutlery and smacking lips permeated the silence.

A few minutes in, Elori broke it first. “I’ve been thinking. Those speeder bikes? Wouldn’t it be handy to have them close by?”

“Sure, but you’d have to go outside our little village to get them.” replied Revan.

“It’s only a five-minute walk according to the map.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt. But don’t forget to deactivate the proximity sensors. The last thing I could use now is a false alarm.”

Elori agreed and returned to her meal.

Girl, however, hadn’t even begun. He prodded his fork into each vegetable, inspecting its quality. He then held up a piece of a boiled carrot in his fingers; scrutinizing it from different angles. Elori and Revan exchanged glances.

“Something wrong?” asked Revan.

“It’s got fat in it.” said Girl.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Meat usually has fat in it. Not vegetables.”

“No, it has fat in it.” Sticking his fork into a spinach leaf, and holding it against the lamplight, the ritual began again. “This one has fat in it too.”

“ _Oh for_ – vegetables don’t have fat!”

Indignant now, he pushed his plate away and folded his arms across his chest.

“You’re going to have to make a composize with him,” mumbled Kirai as she chewed. “One time he held his breath and his face got all red because his Da didn’t give him back his toy.”

“ _Compo...?”_ mouthed a puzzled Elori. And then with dawning realization, “You mean compromise! Uh, so what kind of compromise are you looking for here, Girl?”

“I want to play with a lightsaber.”

Revan snorted. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“Fine!”

“Alright boys and girls, settle down.” placated Elori. “You’re not going to play with _any_ lightsabers. _But,_ perhaps we can come to another arrangement. You like dejarik?” Girl said nothing. “Alright, want to kick the ball around outside for about thirty minutes? No?”

Kuno, finished eating now, came to Elori’s side, cupped her hand over Elori’s ear and whispered into it. “He likes cards but you have to let him win. And you have to play for keeps.”

“Eh?”

“His Da used to play with chips. You have to have something to trade too.” Kuno explained.

Her face lit, Elori leaned back in her seat and grinned. “How about this? We play a friendly game of cards. Now.” She fished around inside her pocket. “All I have are these pebbles and lint. Revan, let’s see what you got.”

He produced five multi-coloured buttons and a used teabag onto the table.

“ _I_...” murmured Elori as she stared a little too long at it. “It doesn’t matter. Alright, Girl. What do you have?”

He brought out an object about an inch long. On closer investigation it appeared to be an intricately carved representation of a war hammer. Its black onyx shell glinted, even in the poor lighting.

“My Da made it.”

 _I don’t want to take your things, kid. Especially not something as dear to you as that_. “You don’t want to bet that. Let’s go find something else.”

“ _No_. In high stakes you have to go big or go home. I wanna use it.”

Elori scratched at her temple. _Well, they were going to let him win so it wouldn’t matter_. “Alright. Kuno? Kirai? You two in?”

They shook their heads, more content to be bystanders that could walk around the table and observe the three card sharks in action.

Girl grinned. “I’m ready now!”

“Uh-uh,” Revan declared. He pointed at the boy's plate with his fork. “You finish your fatty vegetables and we’ll play after Elori gets back. Deal?” He extended his hand in Girl’s direction.

“Promise?”

Revan drew an invisible X across his chest. “Cross my heart.”

The little boy gave a succinct nod and accepted Revan’s hand, exceedingly pleased that he’d now entered the big leagues.

* * *

Her walk to the abandoned pier took a little longer than five minutes, but the bikes were easy to spot if you knew what you were looking for. She tugged at the first one, pulling it out from under the tarp that had covered it. Propping one hand up against a tree, she straddled the small vehicle and flipped the power switch. _Nothing._ If the other one still worked, perhaps she could do a power transfer. Most bikes had fold-out panels that exposed storage space when opened. They contained basic tools such as spanners to tighten bolts, replacement bulbs and cables that could siphon power from one fuel cell to another. She dismounted, found what she was looking for and pulled out the other bike. The engine hummed to life.

“Oh, thank the gods, muttered Elori.

In a matter of a minute, she’d bridged both power cells and plopped herself down on the grass, waiting for the transaction to complete. Hugging her knees to her chest she stared out into open water.

Her comm link crackled at her side. She picked it up. “One of the bikes was dead. Charging the fuel cell as we speak. It should only – ”

“ _Did you deactivate the sensors?_ ” said Revan.

“No, just the one by the gate and I remotely reactivated it once I got past. Why?”

“ _None of them are working_.”

Elori rose to her feet. “How? Purta?”

“ _No, I checked. Purta’s with me and the kids right now_.”

“Probably a fault or something...” mumbled Elori, feeling strongly that it wasn’t.

“ _I thought I saw a light out there. But it’s gone now. We could make a run for that storage closet in the granary but I hate being cornered. It’s too risky, though. Unless I go solo and check things out. Who knows, maybe it’s just an oversized rat with a flashlight_.”

His usual go at humour failed to amuse her for the first time in a long while. “I’ll bring a bike and be there in less than five minutes.”

“ _No. Something tells me we’re going to need them soon, and I don’t want to lose our fastest means of escape_.” He paused before going on. “ _I’m going to take a look. Just...get here quick, okay?_ ”

Elori broke into a jog. “Alright. Lock the doors and hide the others.” _And if you get hurt, I’ll kill you myself_.

* * *

With her hand laid across the hilt of the lightsaber clipped to her belt, she ran flat out. The dread in her bones grew until she came up on the little village. All was silent. Hanging back, she whispered into her comm link.

“I’m here. About ten meters from the gate. I don’t see anything though.”

Following the sounds of muffled movement, Purta, cantankerous as ever, spoke. “ – _damn thing. Who is this?_ ”

 _Oh, this is not happening_. “It’s me! Elori.” she hissed.

“ _I told you those kids be trouble! Now they take the two and kill us too_.”

“What? _Who_ took the kids?”

“ _You know who. Your friend leave this thing with us and forget his light stick too. Fool_.”

“Where are the kids?”

“ _They get the girls and throw them in Sasha’s place_.”

“And Girl?”

“ _In my house with me. Damn nuisance. He be crying now too.”_

“You need to stay hidden. They won’t come looking for what they don’t know exists.” _What if they **were** here for the children, though? How did they know where to go?_ Her throat went dry. “And calm Girl down – he’s just a little kid; he can’t help it. Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

“ _Pfeh_.”

She went around the side of the wooden barricade and climbed deftly up a tree. Crawling along an overhanging branch, she crossed into the village perimeter and landed softly on the ground. Thankfully, Purta’s home was only a few feet away. She rapped lightly on a window; almost pressing against her face against it, and peered in. She watched in relief as a small figure scuttled across the room followed by Purta’s stringy frame.

Now inside, Girl clung to Elori’s leg. “Where’s Revan?” she asked – placing a reassuring hand on the little boy’s head.

“Don’t know.” said Purta.

“How many of them are there?”

“Don’t know.”

Frustrated now, “Isn’t there _anything_ you do know?”

Purta scowled and gazed back at her obstinately.

“ _Fine_. You do you – don’t worry about the rest of us.” She hobbled over to a corner – Girl still curled around her leg, and activated her comm link. Thankfully, Prem answered, and a wave of relief swept over her. Elori relayed everything she knew to the older Jedi. Prem instructed them to leave, if they could. If it looked as if it was the children that they had come after, hiding would have to serve only as a last resort. She would radio the Caliban to move in closer to their position, and would send LZ coordinates her way as soon as she could.

One hurdle behind her, Elori put her hands on her hips, gears chugging in a frenzy of activity.

There was nothing more to be done here. She needed to find her friend. “I’m going to take a look out there.”

Girl’s breathing quickened and he shook his head, _no_. Through the Force, she could hear him repeat the word. No. No. No. She knelt on the floor and brushed his hair off his face. Something stung her eyes and she wiped moisture away with the back of her hand. “Time to be brave now, kid.”

“Like a Jedi?”

Shaking inside, she nodded. “Brave like a Jedi. You’d make a fantastic one. I have to go but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need you to be quiet and listen to Purta. Think you can manage that?”

He pulled out something from his trouser pocket and held it towards Elori. It was his father’s onyx carving. “You can borrow it. Then you have to come back to return it.”

She stood up. “I will. I’ll bring it back to you. I promise.” The words came out hollow; as if spoken by someone else.

Purta handed her Revan’s lightsaber. With a final squeeze of the boy’s hand, she jerked her chin towards the old man – who, surprisingly, nodded back – and slipped out the window once more.

* * *

She scaled the side of the bungalow using the same tree for leverage and crawled forward in a prone position, using her feet and elbows. She squinted over at Sasha’s hut and drew a sharp intake of breath. Two Mandalorians. Blaster rifles were slung across their shoulder and they moved from foot to foot impatiently. But what were they impatient for?

A brief flash of light caught her attention at the opposite end. It was coming from Teebo’s darkened garage. Elori fixed her eyes on where it had originated. There it was again. A yellow light. It stayed on for about two to three seconds before vanishing. And again, except this time, it was blue. Now green.

“ _Revan?_ ” she mouthed.

She flung out one of the pebbles in her pocket and it hit the farthest garage window. Glancing at the two Mandalorian sentries, she waited to see if they’d heard. Apparently not.

The yellow light reappeared. And disappeared. And appeared again. She knew she should have paid more attention to coded military signals during her lessons. She felt helpless; mind hopping from one distraught conclusion to another. Shimmying across the rooftop, she made as if to descend when the light started to flash again, but this time, it was more frantic.

A Mandalorian she hadn’t spotted strolled from around the back of the garage to rejoin his companions near the huts. The light turned green.

It was the colour of most consular-owned lightsabers. Yellow represented that of Jedi sentinels. And blue meant – the penny dropped violently. Master Cho – the last person she expected to think of at this moment, sidled into mind. _When the light blinks yellow_ , _under no circumstances is this book to be removed from library premises._ Revan was telling her to stay away. That it wasn’t safe to jump down. _Green signals that the book is available, not reserved and ready to be checked out by anyone_. That was his all-clear.

“Couldn’t you have just tried green and _red_ , you stupid nit?” she said through gritted teeth.

With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she crouched low and started towards Revan’s position. A cry rang out from one of the mercenaries. Booted feet galloped into the clearing, and Elori pressed herself against one of the wooden pilings, certain that she had been spotted. She unclipped her weapon; thumb poised over its ignition switch. But they took a hard right and kicked open heavyset doors that led into the workshop.

A muffled cacophony erupted inside. She heard a few blaster bolts and watched in icy alarm as lights flashed against the windows from within.

Before she could permit thought, she dove into the garage’s crawlspace. With cobwebs strewn across her face and rapidly caking mud on arms and legs, she emerged on the other side. Glancing around to ensure momentary safety, she stood on a crate beneath a circular window.

Something grunted to life inside, and fluorescent lights flickered on. She saw Revan, his hands up; back against the wall. Blaster rifles were raised in his direction.

“And who the hell are you?” The voice betrayed an accent Elori was unfamiliar with.

“Look at the clothes,” suggested his companion.

“Jedi? Here?” he laughed, the sound coming off as metallic. “Looks like Elgyn got what he wanted after all.”

“Where’s the other one?” he whirled his head in Revan’s vicinity. “The boy?”

“What boy?” said Revan, his mouth in a thin, hard line.

“You know exactly what boy I’m talking about.” Elori imagined that the Mandalorian was smiling behind his visor.

“I don’t have time for this crap.” Now addressing his ally, he jerked his thumb to one side. “You know what to do.”

While the other two stood guard, the third wandered out. When he returned, he had Kuno and Kirai with him.

 _Shit, shit, shit_.

Bringing the two girls before Revan, he pushed the children to their knees. He pressed the barrel of his weapon against Kuno’s temple. Neither of the pair made any sound.

“Where’s the boy?” he asked again.

 _They needed these children alive, they wouldn’t hurt them_. _They want them alive_. She repeated the mantra as she circled around to the front. She was still close enough to hear everything.

“He’s dead.” managed Revan. “He was injured when he was brought here and he bled out.”

“Don’t bloody test me, whelp.”

“It’s true, I swear. I can show you where the body is.”

The Mandalorian glanced down at Kuno. “Is he telling the truth? If you lie to me, I’ll shoot your sister. I don’t need _all_ of you alive.”

Kuno shook her head, the movement barely perceptible. But it was enough. “Where is he?”

She pointed in the direction of Purta’s hut.

One of the garage doors was ajar. Leaning against the wall, mustering her resolve, Elori finally managed to see events as they transpired slowly – almost as if someone was etching it in time with tremendous care. She pulled out Revan’s lightsaber and held it up, hoping that her friend – and _only_ her friend – had seen her. Crouching low, she positioned his weapon on the duracrete floor. Using the Force, she rolled it quietly his way.

She readjusted a two-handed grip on her own saber, no more than a few seconds away from igniting it, when the shot rang out. Something thumped onto the floor.

She watched Revan’s lightsaber sail through the air towards him before he screamed. It was primal, agonizing, guttural. His face contorted in unmitigated rage. The green blade hummed to life right behind the one who’d pulled the trigger and before he could do anything to defend against it, it sliced through armor, skin and bone. Now in possession of his weapon through which he could have his revenge, Revan danced in fury, deflecting shots with ease, cutting everything down that had elicited this pain.

Elori stood frozen in place; in impotent denial. Before she knew it, all was silent and the spell eventually broke. Stepping indoors where the smell of charred flesh permeated their surroundings, she called out to Kuno. The girl had sought refuge under the worktable. But now that their adversaries lay dead, she was near Kirai, an arm extended to Kirai’s limp shoulder. She shook it. Again and again.

“We have to go now.” Elori's speech felt slurred.

Revan said nothing. He stared at Kirai’s body; it was so small.

Elori ran up to him. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into an urgent embrace. “We’ll make them pay. Code be damned. But Kuno’s still alive and so are Girl and Purta. They need us.”

Revan succumbed to a heaving sob against her neck. He only let go when they heard blaster fire outdoors.

He strode away from her, footfalls heavy and purposeful. She directed Kuno to hide and closed the doors before joining him. Purta’s entryway was exposed and she watched as Revan held this Mandalorian – this one who they hadn’t spotted – in mid-air. He was instantly flung against the side of a hut. In one leap, Revan had covered the distance between them and sank his lightsaber into the man’s chest.

She heard the distinctive shattering of glass. Amber coils snaked heavenwards as soon as the lamp had broken. A short figure ran down Purta’s steps and careened into Elori. She grabbed the boy by his hand. “Are there any more?” she called to Revan.

“No.”

“Purta saved me,” said Girl. He pointed to a prostrate body behind him.

“I’m going to get Kuno and we need to get to the bikes. The Caliban’s on its way; Prem sent us the coordinates.”

“Alright.” He hadn’t moved.

“Right _fucking_ now, Revan. I need you with me on this.”

“Yes. Okay.”

As the fire gorged on wood and straw and dead grass, the four children ran off into the night.

* * *

The bikes were right where she had abandoned them. And it looked as if both were now fully operational. Girl climbed awkwardly onto one while Revan placed Kuno gently on top of the other. He sat behind the child and gunned the engine to life. Elori, lifted one foot to do the same when she caught sight of Revan’s face. He was staring up ahead into the distance. Elori followed suit until her eyes came to rest on a hill. And several black shapes heading down its incline.

“That fire...they must’ve seen it.”

“Come on,” urged Revan. “We need to go.”

She shook her head and yanked Girl off the bike as considerately as possible. She positioned him in front of Kuno.

“What are you doing?” asked Revan.

“Too many of them. They can cut us off if they see the kids – it’s too big of a risk.”

“No, you’re mad. Don’t do it.” he pleaded.

“You’re the better fighter. And always will be. You can keep them safe.” Elori pressed a hand against his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, if I ever had an older brother, I’d want it to be you. Now get going, you jackass – before I change my mind. I’m going to try and lose them in the forest.”

“Elori...” he began, but she’d already started moving.

She paused about a few meters ahead and glanced back at them over her shoulder. “Go if I’m not there, okay? If you can’t do it for me, do it for her.”

* * *

Elori sped silently along the pampas grass until she could see how many of them there were. She came to a complete stop just beyond the tree line. She counted about nine, or ten.

_Does it matter?_

She thumbed her lightsaber on, its blue glow a beacon. And then she quickly deactivated it. No point in having them suspect that she was drawing them away from their _real_ quarry. The herd of bikes swerved and altered their course almost immediately. She waited, trying to ensure that they weren’t splitting up. They didn’t.

She took a deep breath and dove into the woods. Every now and then, she would decelerate, keeping them interested, allowing them to think that they stood a chance.

 _They do, actually_. The odds weren’t exactly in her favour. If she hit a tree, a log, anything really, it would be curtains for her. One way or another.

They came in hot, and she imagined that they’d switched formation. Encircling her from behind in the shape of a V, they had her flanked where the only road through was forward. They were a skillful lot; navigating past obstacles almost as well as she could. One of them tilted close and Elori, blazing weapon in hand, banked sharply to her right. He hadn’t expected her to do that. She had only just managed to graze his vehicle but it was an adequate distraction. He fell back.

 _That’s one_.

If she remembered the map Harata had sent them accurately, they were heading for a rocky cliff that overlooked the ocean. Fervently hoping that she was correct and that her pursuers remained in blissful ignorance, she narrowly avoided a red bolt as it flew past her; its kinetic heat palpable. The one on her left now took the initiative to wade in nearer. Instead of repeating what she’d done, she used his momentum and the Force to drive him into a copse of trees. The rider behind him tangled into his handle bars and the pair spun madly, coming to an explosive stop of smoke and fire.

 _Two and three_.

She breathed in deeply, smelling and tasting salt in the air. _Soon, now_. But she needed a clear exit. Amidst a barrage of fresh laser bolts, she found it difficult to concentrate. As the trees started to thin, she snuck a quick backwards glance. This was cutting it much too close, but they were coming up on the precipice quickly – she could sense its drop through the darkness. Counting down each meter, she turned her body sideways and flung her lightsaber at her rearmost assailant. As it took him down, she called her blade back to her side and engaged her brakes immediately after. Whirling her bike in the opposite direction, each Mandalorian whipped by with panicked cries as their ground fell away and the rocky shore rushed up to meet them.

* * *

She wanted to whoop when she saw the clunky outline of the Caliban come into view. She gunned the engine harder. Its ramp was lowered, and she spotted a single figure at its end.

It was Master Prematha. Clutching a bloodied shoulder with her hand, she staggered towards the girl. “Thank the Force. You’re okay.”

Elori leapt off her bike. “Master Djani?” she asked hopefully.

Prematha shook her head. “We ran into some ordnance in the valley. We made it here though, because of her.”

 _No_. “We?”

“Lieutenant Harata and myself. He won’t last much longer if we don't dust off soon.”

“What about...?”

“Gone. They were all gone. Bodies piled up and being burned,” Prematha closed her eyes in pain; no salve existed that could soothe this ache. She opened them again. “Why aren’t Revan and the others with you?”

Elori spun around. “What? They’re not here? I told them to go on ahead. We were being chased by – ”

One of the Caliban’s pilots raced down the gangway. “We have to go right now. I’ve spotted multiple objects heading our way. Our ship doesn’t have shields and we’re sitting ducks out here. They’re not airborne bogeys, so we might just make it if we go _now_.”

“No!” shouted Elori. “We wait.”

He looked at Prematha. She nodded her assent. “He’s right. Get inside, Elori.”

Elori scanned the horizon, willing for her friend to appear. Prematha began to shout in her direction. And there it was. A speck at first. Elori was afraid to smile. As it grew larger, she felt his presence and rushed ahead, beckoning wildly.

The first blast struck ahead of her. The second knocked her clean off her feet. Her world careened sideways and through the haze of dust and smoke, they were impossibly still there. Unharmed. Something carried her into the ship. Her eyes locked on all three; Revan, Kuno and Girl – each face intently set on escape, would soon be within reach.

The third hit robbed her of her line of sight. Not waiting for the fumes to clear, Prematha ran headlong into it. She emerged, dragging a body up the ramp. She cried something to the pilot. The craft groaned and the ramp began to rise. Revan – how he’d come to be by her side, she didn’t know – staggered to his feet. He clutched an overhead metal bar and held on. He looked at her, and then down at the plains. They were several meters above it now.

Something was wrong.

 _Girl and Kuno. They weren’t here. They couldn’t leave yet. They weren’t here_.

Revan stretched out his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. Elori blinked stupidly up at him as something thick trickled into her eye, and then she knew. The Caliban shuddered in protest, fighting an invisible tension that was attempting to tether it to the ground.

Elori called on the Force, her will now joined with Revan’s. The metal sang louder, thrusters a roaring of hot breath, Prematha’s voice insignificant in comparison. Just a bit longer now.

She didn’t see a figure step up behind Revan and knock him out cold.

She didn’t even feel it when it was her turn.


	5. Arren

**The Jedi Temple**

**Coruscant**

Smoke snaked up into a rare starry night as tongues of fire ate away at stacked logs. Arren Kae was the thirteenth in a long line of people who’d shown to pay their respects to an empty pyre. The stench of nostalgia – of having done this _too_ many times – finally began to take its toll. She heard no weeping and an anger churned within. This was their affliction, the Jedi. This was their bulwark against loss. Terellum Djani was now one with the Force, but no longer with them. The Force saw fit to bring her mortal presence to an end; it had decided that she was of no use in this realm.

Arren didn’t quite know the woman. She was respected – certainly. But well-loved? Hard to tell. Most of her contemporaries were Jedi; their hoods drawn close about them, faces obscured. _All the better to hide our lack of grief_. _Is it even there?_ But the man in front of her, evidently an ex-Republic soldier who’d been wounded recently, threw certain effects onto the blaze and his shoulders shook as he did so. He turned left and hobbled off. _Well-loved by this one, at the very least_.

When her turn came, she found no words of comfort to offer – to herself or the dead woman. Of the thoughts that had decided to show were those of lukewarm promises; melancholy truisms that only lasted the breadth of a moment. Because after every oath had been made, people still died. And each pledge grew more fractured, more degraded, when the words had been spoken.

Arren sidled past the crowd and to the back of the east balcony. To her chagrin, she found Vrook Lamar next to her.

Dark eyebrows knotted together and customary scowl in place, he grunted in acknowledgement. “Seems like there would be in an empty Council seat to fill now.”

“I’m sure you have suitable candidates in mind.”

Shadow and light danced across his angular features. “It won’t be easy. She was relatively new – true. But she was well-liked; by many of our initiates as well. I’d heard that she was to take Mataki on as her padawan. There was a connection between them.”

Arren didn’t recognize the name. “I’d have thought Revan would have been the charge of choice. The boy possesses raw talent.”

“And raw emotion. Given what happened at Ploorid III, it seems that there’s a lot more to his story.” He scratched at his chin. “Perhaps I allowed Prematha to do too much of the talking in there today. I should have separated them. We should have spoken to the children on their own.”

“To what end? To provoke a response out of them? The boy had his femur shattered and the girl broke two ribs. And judging from Prem’s report, at best, it’s likely that they witnessed the capture of the Miralukan children. At the very worst, they saw them die right in front of them. We can’t treat them – _our children_ – like criminals.” Her gut clenched and she quickly let out several breaths; tensions seeping out with each release.

He cast a sidelong glance her way. “You want Revan as your padawan.”

“Yes. But that’s not why I did what I did in there today.”

“They were one vote away from reassignment to the engineering corps. If you’d stopped and meditated on that ruling, perhaps you’d see that it was done out of kindness.”

 _And he we are again. Patting ourselves on the back after we do the wrong thing_. Reflexive outrage came and went. She’d gone through the motions countless times, but she hadn’t yet crossed into apathy. Also, Vrook had been a good friend; once upon a time. He’d never scoffed at her honesty in the past, and she often welcomed his. There were days when his candid opinions were welcome deviations from the guarded feelings most Jedi presented. But this _wasn’t_ one of those days.

“Is it kindness to turn them away when they needed us the most?” She looked at him earnestly, and he turned to meet her gaze. “What happens when they’re out there later, as adults, and the same thing happens to people under their care? Why should they treat those people any differently? Any less indifferently? We keep dropping our initiates into the unknown, and we expect them to follow our tenets to the letter. The galaxy is _changing_ , Vrook. It’s not the same place it was a hundred years ago.”

“But we’re Jedi. We’re cut from a different cloth.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I may not be as _malleable_ as you, or others on the Council...or even many of our Order. But some of us have to draw that line in the sand and hold it. Those of us who don’t bend are able to buy time for those who do. It buys them the time to survive. For the Jedi to survive. If there is rot, best to cut it off at its root.” 

His words elicited a sardonic smile from his companion. “I believe that it’s best to try and prevent the rot, rather than acting after the fact. A shame that we don’t see eye to eye on this.”

“Arren,” he breathed, “I know that I may sometimes deal in absolutes, but I don’t want you to think that I always turn my back on differing sentiments. There is truth in my words and yours as well.” He cocked his head slightly to one side. “Perhaps you made the correct decision today and I...would like to be proven wrong. Let’s leave it at that.”

It was as much as a concession as she was going to get.

Vrook gazed as the final torch was placed on the logs that held no body, and fresh embers defied gravity and gamboled upwards. He straightened and smoothed down his robes. “Heard you’ve been requesting a glance through the holocron vaults.”

Whatever hopes of secrecy she’d been holding onto dwindled. “Who ratted?”

He ignored the question. “Might I enquire why?” Vrook's lips were a straight, thin line, but his eyes betrayed mild amusement.

 _And how to field this one?_ The older Jedi was smart. Only truth and the omission of would serve here. Nothing too fancy; nothing too _contrived_. “A pet project of mine,” she began, “I’ve been doing some reading about datacron tech. It would seem that some may have been intended for different purposes than we originally believed.”

“What types of purposes?”

“I don’t know.” she said truthfully. “Although I was told that we had an unusual set stored in the archives.”

“Unusual? How?”

“Spherical,” she said as she studied his response. His face remained blank. “Unlike any other holocron we’ve ever seen. And they were said to possess strange physical properties. Have you ever heard of anything like it?”

“You know,” he frowned; thinking, “A few years ago, we had a few things stolen from the archives. Some historical writings, armor from Dathomir and holocrons.”

She whirled her head and entire body to face him. “Do you remember what they looked like? Who took them?”

“I was provided an inventory list of what went missing, but no images. I don’t believe anyone was caught; but there _was_ a war on. You think this is relevant to whatever you’re working on?”

 _Yes_. “I don’t know, yet. I just need to...think.”

* * *

Fat drops of rain started to pick up the pace when she hailed the yellow cab. Sliding onto the already-slippery back seat, she switched her terminal on and dialed. After Djani’s funeral, she saw that she’d received several calls from a contact she wanted to keep under the radar. Ever since Bortis Chorba’s death, Arren had realized that playing detective on an unsanctioned case was going to prove tricky. A seat on the Council brought its respective duties with it. While she and most of her counterparts were unofficially granted leeway when it came to diversions worthy of their time, they were expected to discuss why with their peers. _Eventually_.

She was one woman, with a number of responsibilities on her shoulders. She couldn’t be in ten places at one time, so she resorted to the hiring of services that had promised to be discreet. Xanthos Private Investigations advertised themselves as just that, and she’d seen to their payment through funds she’d stationed in an account that would’ve been difficult to trace back to her. They even provided private security for a few offworld stations from time to time. Not as broad-reaching or heterogeneous in their exploits as Czerka, but small enough, and good enough that her underground connections called them both covert and efficient.

A metallic voice poured out of one end of her terminal.

“ _Xanthos Private Investigations: We probe so you don’t need to_. _How may we assist you?”_

 _You’ve **got** to work on that opening_. “Yes, hello. This is Caellista. Is Dnalel there?”

“ _Dnalel is out of the office at the moment. But he did leave a message. Let’s see here...yes, he did provide an address for you. It seems that he wants to meet with you elsewhere. I can forward you the details as soon as we’re done here_.”

“That’d be great. But could you tell me why I have thirteen calls from him? He didn’t leave any messages. Is everything okay?”

“ _Miss Caellista, I’m not involved in the details of the cases we handle here. I just know who our clients are, and who’s working on what. We consider a client’s privacy a rare and precious commodity. The very reason for our slogan, in fact. We probe so you don’t_ – ”

“ – Yes, okay, I get it. Just send me his location.”

“ _At once. Thank you for your continued patronage and we hope you have a peaceful day_.”

The line cut and seconds later, an encrypted message flashed on screen.

“Driver, scratch Elebeeman Route. I’m going to beam some coordinates to your nav-system. Is that okay?”

He nodded and, in an hour, they arrived at the docks by one of Coruscant’s industrial districts. She stepped out into sheets of rain and her grey cloak turned a drenched black almost instantly. Squinting ahead, she could make out plasteel railings that prevented unwary passers-by from plunging into a reservoir that churned around several hydro-turbines below. _Not much of a guard, that_. The scaffolding that encased some cargo trailers – stacked up alongside one another like giant cinderblocks – was plasteel too. Laminasteel would have served better but credits seemed to be a limiting factor here. The place looked abandoned except for some residential units that had been retrofitted into most of the unused cargo containers; a few dismal lights broadcasting life within. At least someone was trying to keep the dough rolling. A handful of neon signs – not the high-res screens that layered buildings in the business, tourist or pleasure sectors even – flashed mournfully against the downpour.

Arren was attempting to read one when a figure tried to jostle past her, but caught her shoulder – spinning her involuntarily to one side.

“Hey!” she shouted.

The man, his large moustache soaked pitifully downwards, prepped for retort but snorted instead. “You!”

“Dnalel?”

“Did you _just_ get my calls? I've been trying to reach you all afternoon.”

“Yes. But your receptionist said you were out. They sent me here. Where are you going?”

“To Vorsk’s hotel.”

“Why? Vorsk is _here?_ ”

“Listen, I’d love to sit and chat, but we don’t have time. We gotta get to my car. Walk and talk?”

Arren agreed and the pair strode side by side at a brisk pace. “Your friend Vorsk,” began Dnalel, “he may be in danger. I told him to leave his place. Told him to come to Coruscant and thought I could keep him safe here.”

“Safe? You think the same people that killed Chorba are after Vorsk?” She swallowed. _What kind of rabbit hole was this turning out to be?_

“Yeah I do. Why do you think I left the main office? I’ve been hiding out here for two weeks now. You wanna tell me what you’ve dragged me into, Jedi?”

That threw her. She’d never introduced herself as a Jedi. Never even gave him her real name. She didn’t know what to say so he went on. “What kind of private dick would I be if I couldn’t even figure out who my client really was?”

They reached an indiscriminate parking lot, Dnalel located his blue car and unlocked the doors. The vehicle drifted upwards and joined the commuting denizens above.

“Yeah, you can go ahead and just toss that on the floor.” said Dnalel as Arren winced in her seat and pulled out an empty can of beer from under her. He gunned the engine. “So your guy, Chorba? That was an Exchange hit. A very badly executed hit. No luck on carbon score tracing, but some of their weapon heat sinks malfunctioned. And kinda blew up. Parts are black market – fairly common save for the gas chamber housing. That bit belonged to Czerka. I know this because some gun runners got intercepted a while back selling it to the Exchange.”

Arren looked impressed, but he dismissed it a short laugh. “Didn’t have to do much leg work there. Hacked into some of the security reports. Anyway, it turned out to be a dead end. You know how they conveniently lose some of their business contract records. And don’t forget that part swapping’s easier than switching out an implant these days. So I was stuck for a while there. Bored enough to wanna read Chorba’s paper...what was it again?” He snapped his fingers repeatedly in an effort to remember. “ _Cascade Reversal_. That’s it. I go looking for the damn thing and suddenly, I can’t find it.”

“How’s that possible? Vorsk pulled it up for me during a live transmission.”

“Then, maybe. Now? It’s gone. I try to figure out why and contact the university. Gave me some mumbo-jumbo about failed reproducibility but it turned out that someone had it discredited. It was pulled from a lot of sources too – not just the university. Seems like they went to a lot of trouble to do it. So I get to thinking, who kills a man first and then goes all out to ruin his rep after?”

“You’re saying it’s Exchange? That’s reaching, Dnalel.” She gave him a disbelieving smile.

“I felt the same way.” He took a hard bank to the right and a horn flared in the distance. “But think about it. Who does that?”

“It’s not personal,” realized Arren. “Something’s being hushed up.”

They shared a knowing glance. “Right? Listen to this. I have a niece with a lot of brains. It's not a dominant trait in our family. Anyway, she’s working on her degree right now and said that sometimes research articles are peer-reviewed and there are certified boards that do this. I go look at who’s on this committee and find out that it’s just one man. She tells me that’s unheard of. And that he’s only ever done this once in his lifetime. Allegedly.”

“What’s his name?”

“Tadius Ahern. Kinetic shield specialist, xenobiology specialist, computational archaeology specialist – guy's got specializations oozing out of his ass. And now? Now he works for the Exchange.”

“How do you know he works there?”

“Went into this Quarren’s office one day. Ran a travel agency selling vacation packages to Hoth. It's connected to this large compound behind it, and I don't think they bake pies back there. Anyway, where was I? _Hoth_. I don’t about you, but I ain’t crazy about that ice rock and you don’t see many people lining up to get there. Kinda screams _front_ , doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.”

“Anyway, a lot of my contacts think it’s Exchange, so I go in and pretend to be a client. Went in with a real tear-jerker of a tale too. Got a rich tycoon for a father-in-law and a lot of debt to my name. The man hasn’t checked out yet, and since my creditors are getting hungry I ask if they can hurry things along. They did a background check, I get the all-clear, and then I'm introduced to some of their colleagues. And who do you think is skulking about at the back of the shop?”

“Ahern? They assigned him to your case?”

Dnalel shook his head. “No. The guy was just there. Liaising maybe? I don’t know.”

“But the Exchange doesn’t have an R&D division. Why would a scientist work for them? Czerka perhaps. Not the Exchange.” She pressed a thoughtful finger to her lips. The Exchange ran slipshod operations; it was built up of mercenaries and violent, self-destructive power struggles were a way of life. To establish new departments and to utilize the talents of their _employees_ efficiently required a degree of finesse they never possessed. Something did a series of somersaults in her stomach. “Tadius Ahern. An alias, I assume?”

“In my line of work, I assume every name’s an alias. I wasn’t wrong with you, now was I?”

“You know what he looks like?”

“Yeah. Found two pictures and that was it. Here’s one.” Dnalel pulled out his datapad with his right hand and flipped to the correct tab using his thumb while keeping an eye on the lane ahead. A slowly rotating hologram emerged and he handed the tablet to his companion.

Arren scrutinized the sharp features of a human male. His receding hairline, average nose, thin lips and impassive gaze made him unremarkable. Precisely the traits he would need if he was what Arren thought he was.

“I’m willing to bet to that this guy doesn’t work for the Exchange. The Exchange works for him.” she muttered. She flipped to the second tab and pulled up a still picture of a man in crowd.

“A client? Huh. That’s good,” acquiesced Dnalel as he nodded with his head to one side. “It’d make sense. That second picture you got there? That was taken after Vorsk’s flat blew up on Alderaan. The cops ran some security footage and found our guy leaving the grounds. Well, technically they didn’t know who he was. I did though. But they didn’t think the Exchange was involved. And neither do I – at least not at that time.”

Arren leapt forward in her seat. “They blew up his flat?”

“Yeah – just his apartment though – no one was killed. Guy was out at the time and it probably saved his life. Everyone assumed a faulty electrical main was the cause; the criminal element being what it is on Alderaan. You know, squeaky clean.” He scratched the side of his temple. “So you think Ahern is a Cleaner? But then why the hell would he hire the Exchange? Hiring their mercs means crapshooting from a narrow ledge in the dark. Chorba’s death: case in point.”

“Same reason I hired you. Can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Why do you think he didn’t discredit Vorsk before trying to kill him? That’s not his MO.”

“The murders would be too similar, perhaps...? Or maybe Vorsk’s research can’t be tied to Chorba’s. Yet.”

Dnalel hung a left and entered a tunnel. Bright lights lit up the vehicles interior at regular intervals as they continued to drive.

“A lot of column A, a little of column B. We should be coming up on his hotel in a bit. He’ll be happy to see you, I know that. Kept asking me if you found out more about the holocrons.”

Arren let out a desperate laugh. “About those holocrons...”

Dnalel visibly tensed and narrowed his eyes, but allowed her to continue.

“...they went missing from the protected archives about three years ago. I think there was a delay from when they vanished to when it actually got reported.” she finished.

“Don’t you Jedi worship holocrons? How’d you let it get stolen?”

“There was a war going on at the time, you know. And...I don’t know – perhaps since no one was able to open them, they weren’t much more than glorified paperweights. I didn’t really have much time to think this over. I put in a request for access to the vaults a few weeks ago, and was only informed this evening.”

They shot out of the tunnel and past a barrage of multi-coloured advertisements.

“Glorified paperweights or not, you don’t just let something like that disappear that easy. Takes some skill to get it out from under a Jedi’s nose, no?”

“Make that multiple Jedi. You think it’s an inside job?”

“The delay’s weird. So yeah. And even though you’re the only Jedi I know, I’ve heard you’re a pretty meticulous bunch. Bet there are few I’s and T’s that you guys have left un-dotted and un-crossed in this universe. Anyway, looks like we’re here.” Dnalel jerked his chin ahead of them and the car slowed behind a string of vehicles.

They pulled up alongside a terrace bedecked with bronze statues and potted plants. A valet droid approached their car and greeted them. Dnalel tossed him the keys and exited, followed closely behind by Arren.

As they walked, she examined carved depictions of a group of Bith frozen in time playing an assortment of musical instruments. Without warning, hot fumes and a blinding light encompassed her vision. Then, following a vacuum of sound, came a deafening roar milliseconds later. Along with everyone else in the vicinity, a fireball flung her backwards.

The screaming broke slowly past the ringing in her ears. Struggling for purchase amidst tilting horizons, she leaned back up against a broken statue, steadied herself and searched for Dnalel. Each debris-stained face she scanned stumbled away from the blast; terrified. Except for one. He was ambling slowly, and in the opposite direction too. But there was no fear there. She blinked stupidly before it finally registered. Ahern.

He’d already moved past her and she looked from her quarry to the wounded and the rubble and the chaos – torn. Something clutched at her right arm.

“We can’t let him get away,” came Dnalel’s voice. “He gets away and then we get more of _this_.” He swept his hand over the explosion’s aftermath.

Arren nodded and marshalling her resolve, they jogged after him. “You get the car – I’m going to slow him down.” She ignited her blue lightsaber, and even though she didn’t think it possible, it elicited more screams.

It also elicited urgency in her prey. He pushed two people roughly aside and leapt into a car. She vaulted into the air and, as the vehicle took off, she was almost thrown clear of it. Arren hooked her arm around a rear spoiler and held on. She looked hopelessly behind her for any sign of the private detective’s bright blue ride. She was on her own for now. Ahern jerked hard on the wheel and his vehicle tipped left, but he couldn’t shake his unwanted passenger. He almost careened into oncoming traffic and quickly leveled. She rose shakily to her feet and with a silent prayer, began to move forward.

She could sense his temptation to tug at the wheel again, but before he could, she broke the glass window with her blade and slid – feet-first – into the back seat. He shot a hateful glare over his shoulder, pointed his blaster at her and pulled the trigger. She dodged two red beams that sailed out the shattered window. As she was about to throw her arm around his neck, fear tingled along her nerves and she ducked – just narrowly avoiding two more blaster shots that flew in from behind.

_Did he have accomplices?_

Arren grunted and managed to get the man into her choke hold. He fumbled about his belt and then vanished from sight. But he was still locked in and she could feel him writhing in his seat.

 _You can hide, but you can’t run_.

The vehicle took another hard left and her lightsaber slipped out of her grasp. As she watched it ricochet against the leather and metal interior, she found her other arm wrapped around empty air. Ahern was not just invisible. He'd _dematerialized._ And then appeared by her side. He flickered out of view as the stealth field was reactivated. He knocked her head back with his elbow so hard her teeth clacked together. Seeing stars, she flailed helplessly to grab onto him. He unleashed a volley of blows.

A familiar voice called out. It was distant, but it was clear. _Dnalel_.

When Arren opened her eyes, she had her hand at her invisible assailant’s throat. But her entire world was spinning; a vertigo-inducing kaleidoscope of colours that refused to stop moving. As the car plummeted down, she lost Ahern a second time. But there were bigger problems right now. She inhaled; summoning the Force to come to her aid – to fight gravity and slow their rapid descent.

When the ground finally rushed up to meet her, she thought she had failed.

* * *

Arren Kae was roused by the sensation of cooling liquid on her forearm and a series of pinpricks after. But her skin registered no pain. When she opened her eyes, the medical droid seemed to focus intently on her right wrist. Her sense of smell was reawakened by a piercing antiseptic, and it steered her sight to other objects in the small room. A decaying antiforg monitor was tucked away in a corner, a set of mobile drawers sat behind the droid while the autodoc beside it issued a progressive string of placid beeps. Dnalel’s bruised face then stepped into frame.

“Vorsk?” she croaked.

The older man shook his head. He brought her a plastic cup of water that she downed in three gulps. “Ahern bought the farm too.” He jerked behind him with his thumb to a motionless shape covered with a latex tarp.

She started to raised herself into a sitting position, but pain shot through her like lightning and she fell back down. “We didn’t even get to talk to him.” She looked around. “Where are we? What happened?”

He let out a puff of air through a corner of his mouth. “Alright. One: no, we didn’t get to question him.” Dnalel rolled a stool to her bedside and sat down. “Two and three: I think some initial reports are calling this a Mandalorian terrorist attack. The nearest hospitals were at full capacity, so I improvised. Sometimes, when my boys and I get a bit banged up, we come here. Not the best of the best, but it wasn’t like you were going to die on me or anything. And our stiff was already...uh, _stiff_ when I found you. Those were some fancy moves you pulled back there. That the Force?”

She took in a couple of deep breaths. “He teleported.” Her voice was quiet.

Dnalel leaned in. “What?”

“The bastard can teleport.”

“That’s not...”

“Possible? Yes, I know. The research on molecular dissemination and reassembly never got very far – a device like that has never been invented. You know what else isn’t possible? Remaining cloaked while moving rapidly inside a stealth field. And there's more.” With anger subbing for physical strength, she propped herself up onto her elbows. The medical droid wheeled off into a corner; finished with the stitches near her wrist. “He fired off two shots at me and those two _exact_ shots boomeranged back into the car.”

Dnalel hunched over and put his head in his hands. “I don't get it. Maybe he works in weapons tech for a private corporation that we don’t even know about.”

“We’ll have to expand our search to see if any similar hits have been recorded. We’re going to have to look for unusual assassinations, abnormalities within local terrorist groups, Mandalorians using new tech, and we’ll – ”

“ – If Ahern is able to teleport, then why the hell did he blow up an entire hotel to kill one guy? Why not pop into Vorsk’s hotel room and end him right then and there – make it a quiet job?”

“Because he’s sending a statement.”

“To us, from a Mando-run terrorist organization? And what’s the statement anyway? Talk to these scientists and we _nuke_ them?”

“The Mandalorians can't be behind this. I think that if they're involved, it's because they're being used. Those fucking holocrons. That's the key.” She coughed. “Maybe they’re the source of this new tech. Maybe they’re power cells, I don’t know. Whatever they’re capable of doing, I’m telling you that you can’t have that kind of weaponry without those holocrons. They’re linked.”

He let out a hoarse laugh. “So which came first? The chicken or the egg?”

“I think it's kind of obvious.”

"The holocrons?"

"Yes."

He ran a weary hand across his face. “So now what?”

“Was he still wearing the belt when he died?”

“Yeah.”

“And the blaster?”

“Never found it. But to be honest, I didn’t do a thorough job of looking. I needed to get the both of you out before the cops showed up and started asking too many questions. They'd have had us wrapped in red tape till kingdom come, and we'd never see that body again.”

“We need to have that belt analyzed. And we need to run a full autopsy on Ahern. See if he’s got any other aces up his sleeves. Most importantly, we need to find those holocrons.”

“Now I’m surprised he didn’t spontaneously combust after he died,” he snorted. And then his voice softened. “Listen, Jedi. I think you need to know something before you decide to pull on these threads.”

“These people aren’t afraid of consequences, Dnalel. And you know what that tells me about them? That they’re confident. And they’re confident because they’re holding a _fucking_ good hand, and that ours pales in comparison.”

“Jedi,” he started.

“If we don’t get moving on this, things are going to get a lot hotter. I don’t even know if have enough time. What we thought about before; about them wanting to cover up everything? I think maybe that’s how it started out, but now, suddenly it's like they’re not afraid anymore.”

“Jedi – ”

“I’ll have to tell the Council. Maybe this is too big for us to handle on our own. But if the missing holocrons was an inside job, can I even – ”

“Jedi!”

“ _What!_ ” snapped Arren.

“I don’t know how exactly to break this to you...so I’m just going to come out and say it. Before you go up against whatever the hell it is we’re up against, you may wanna reconsider. Dee-Seven ran your vitals and found something unusual. We hooked you up to the autodoc for a full scan. And it kinda looks like you might be...uh, pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for some typos and possible repeats in the chapter. I've tried to edit out certain things I've caught. I clearly need a beta reader.


	6. Malachor V

" _The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword_."

\- Ned Stark, from a Song of Ice and Fire series by George R R Martin (aka one of the greatest TV shows ever to break my black little heart)

* * *

**12 Years Later**

**6 months before deployment of the mass shadow generator**

The zipper snagged halfway up her chest and no amount of yanking helped. Annoyed, she slid it down a few teeth and then jerked it in the opposite direction. She stopped just short of her collar bones and straightened the gusset inside the back lining of the grey flight suit. She glanced up at the mirror and took in the tired shape that stared back. It was strange – this, her without her Jedi garb. The brown eyes and dark-brown hair that rested just about the shoulders belonged, but the rest of her; the gathered grey sleeves at the elbow, the abundance of pockets sewn into the fabric, the hook-and-loop at her waist – appeared to clothe an imposter.

But it wasn’t as if she wanted the austere robes back anytime soon. She was in limbo now – quite literally and figuratively trying out different outfits, different roles. She slipped on a pair of hardy combat boots despite the probability of them landing dirtside was nil, and shoved her former weather-beaten pair into a locker in the cabin. Tying her hair back into a simple ponytail at the base of her neck, she exited her quarters and made her way to the mess.

The _GRN Galatea_ was no mean frigate in the Republic navy. She was one of the Republic’s prized MedStar Class frigates, and spanned four decks that housed dedicated medcenters to serve as mobile hospitals that mostly, but not exclusively, treated their own. Recent events, however, had seen to her ferrying her facilities to Mandalorian-ravaged and -abandoned worlds. She was often a welcome sight, since her state of the art autodocs, numerous kolto tanks and passenger quarters not only saved lives but helped shuttle refugees to safer locations. In addition to her medical resources, she always carried with her small battalions of seasoned soldiers and pilots should ground deployment become necessary in small-scale emergencies.

Mataki stood patiently in line as her stomach growled, and was glad of the sonorous hum of the inertial compensators. A woman in front of her, one of many ex-Jedi who still sported their traditional garments, turned and smiled.

“That’s some fancy dress there, LC.” She dangled her tray by her side and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Did you burn the robes? I wish I thought of it first. I swear, sometimes I don’t even know why I wear it.”

 _Do I make letting go look easy?_ “It’s okay to miss it, Clarisse.”

“Do you miss it?” The woman issued a nervous laugh. “I mean, it doesn’t _look_ like you miss it. It suits you.”

“If I’m being honest, just a little.” Mataki felt uncomfortable and shifted the subject as quickly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “How’s Greta doing?”

Clarisse beamed. “She’s getting so big. And it’s happening too fast. Here, you need to see this.” She pulled out her terminal and enlarged a two-dimensional holovid. Mataki watched as a man – seated cross-legged on the floor with his back to the recording – blew bubbles in the direction of a toddler. The child squealed in delight and stomped her feet in rapid succession. A string of loose babble followed and the man chuckled.

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” murmured Mataki, smiling. “How’s Tibbal doing? I thought he was posted on Taris? Or is he on shore leave?”

“He resigned. Someone had to stay back and take care of Greta. His parents died about three years back and I don’t ha – well, you know. He wanted us both to stay out of the war, but that kind of life...it seems reckless to just sit back and let others do the fighting. I love my daughter to pieces, but I feel like the only way I can protect her is by doing my job out here. Do you think it makes me a bad mother?”

Clarisse Benayoun was one of few who’d grasped early on that the Jedi Order would never suffer the return of any of their prodigal sons and daughters. She had not only succeeded in closing that door, but had managed to _keep_ it closed and then found happiness elsewhere. The bulk of their kind – those who called themselves Revanchists after breaking with the Council, and who then drew others to their crusade – believed that they would be accepted back. It was a badly kept secret, even though they made light of how stifling Jedi traditions were, and how grateful they were to have moved past them. But the punch lines often fell short of sincerity. The parts of their lives that had been touched by the friends that became family had not stopped meaning _home_. There would be consequences and concessions, surely, but perhaps the Council would take note of how many they’d saved and eventually come around. Mataki had to admit that it was a dangerous hope to harbour, and naïve at that. But she nurtured her own foolish dreams and didn’t feel that she was one to talk.

“I think you and Tibbal have created something beautiful, and that it isn’t wrong to want to try and preserve it.” said Mataki, choosing her words judiciously.

Clarisse appeared pleased. And relieved. They moved down the line. “What about you? You have any plans for when this is over?”

“You seem certain that we’re going to win,” Mataki laughed. “Any scuttlebutt I’m not aware of?”

“Well, we _did_ have an unscheduled supply pick-up and a few roster reassignments...” wondered Clarisse before a server gestured impatiently for her attention by jerking a large soup spoon in mid-air.

Immediate and more basic necessities taking precedence, Mataki allowed Clarisse to drift off with an apology and a full plate towards her friends, while she carried a bowl of noodle soup to the farthest corner of the mess and sat down at a table for one.

She knew he’d walked into the mess after a burst of applause erupted. Mataki couldn’t see General Katsushiro’s face, but she could feel his embarrassment – preceded by an acute sensation of horror and disgust. She knew what had happened, of course. They all did. He had single-handedly managed to fend off enemy agents on the methane-steeped planet of Drackmar. The statement itself didn’t merit much praise until intelligence reports returned and revealed that the dead women were Jedi. They weren’t any of _theirs_ , which leaned towards them being either Sith or actual plants. A few Sith had been sighted outside the Republic’s fringe territories, but their numbers were too low to have posed a significant threat. The latter, however, drew a tainted stroke across their designs. It meant that the women’s presence could very likely have been a Council issued directive – they were veritable flies on the wall. And who knew what the flies had already betrayed to their masters?

The crowd’s approbation finally subsiding, she permitted her eyes to linger on the general’s entire profile a moment longer than she would have liked. What used to be lengthy jet-black hair had now been cropped close to his scalp, and the stubble on his cheeks and chin had traveled far from the threshold of five o’clock shadows. He was muscular but not bulky, slim but not gaunt. The shape and unique colour of his eyes disclosed an Echani heritage, and she found herself drawn to the little lopsided crook his lips made whenever he was amused.

They’d worked together on a few mission briefings, and she’d initially mistaken the tension between them for antagonism on his part. It wasn’t until she’d caught him looking and saw the same smile flash in her direction that she began to wonder. She was no stranger to the occasional attraction, but was rarely at the receiving end. And it made her nervous to see this particular door ajar.

Yes, she would have to give this one a wide berth. For now. Mataki ducked her head and feigned interest in her food. She flipped on a holovid and tried her hand at distraction.

But he’d found her anyway.

“I know you probably want to be left in peace, but this table you’re sitting at – the one at the end of the universe? This is exactly where I want to be.” he said, with no insinuation or innuendo.

Chewing slowly, Mataki waved her hand to an unoccupied chair. Katsushiro placed his tray down and pulled the chair across the floor to their table.

“I would drain every last drop of that whiskey in my cabin if we weren’t flying out tonight.” He sighed and tapped his fork absently while drifting off into thoughts of his own.

“It’ll blow over in a few weeks. Just give it time.”

“You know, I was expecting them to hate me. Ges in engineering called me _Slayer_ this afternoon. Was grinning while he said it.” His face twisted in loathing at the nickname.

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because I killed some of their own. Okay, so I was fighting for my life. But it doesn’t change the fact that I killed those women.” He took a sip of water. “But you know what really gets me? Your friend. Our fearless leader sent me a transmission praising my resourcefulness in uncovering and eliminating this conspiracy. His words too.”

“He’s not – ”

“ – And if you tell me that I should be pleased with his congratulations, I’m going to have to commit mutiny. This wasn’t a victory. Those Jedi could have saved someone else’s life. They weren’t our enemies.”

“They tried to kill you, Shiro.”

He massaged the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. I know. But that _moment_ – I felt like it could have gone in so many directions. I held a blaster to her head...and then the other one came out of nowhere. What if they were sent to _just_ keep tabs on us? Your people – and forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds – they’re not murderers. I’ve served with some of them and, if I’m counting, they’ve saved my life on two separate occasions. If I’d stopped to talk and didn’t give into my impulses – ”

“ – you’d be dead.”

“One man’s life for three Jedi. Not a bad bargain.”

She gave him an involuntary, warm smile while appraising him with newfound softness, before growing solemn. “They were after the _Renegade’s_ CIC codes. I get that that precise act didn’t constitute murder, at least not directly, but later on we might have had to pay a price. So theoretically your math is wrong. Three women for possibly hundreds of lives.”

“I don’t like dealing in hypotheticals. Gives the conscience too much wiggle room.”

“True enough. I don’t dabble in theoretical dealings either, but I was pulling out whatever I could from my top hat. Just because.” she trailed off.

“The jumpsuit looks good on you.” He gently stuck his fork into the freeze-dried-now-thawed pasta. “So, no monkish robes anymore...?”

“Gave it a shot and it didn't pan out.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Her eyes sought purchase elsewhere, and she issued a rueful smile. “Not right now. Let’s just focus on your problems for the time being.”

“I think I’ve done enough dumping for the night.”

That was her opening; her cue to depart. But invisible ropes tethered her in place. “Look,” she shot him a meaningful look, and attempted to avoid the pull from the other end. “I think you need to sit out tonight’s run. We’re talking _minimal_ combat support, and even that’s just a precaution. Asteroid surveys and surface mapping – could really do all of it on autopilot; you don’t need to be there. I’ll make sure we send in the data in real-time so we can keep you in the loop.”

And there sat his charming, asymmetrical grin. “You worried about me, LC?”

“You’re our general, _General,_ ” she refused to concede any sign of approval...or attraction. “As high priority as this is, you probably should sit back and let us do the heavy lifting. It’s just the way things are.”

Katsushiro leaned back and issued and appraising glance. “Didn’t Revan promote you last year?”

“I may have refused that particular pedestal.”

“Why?”

Mataki cocked her head to one side. “I thought we were discussing _your_ recent exploits.”

“I’m heading up to the observation deck later and spend some time in my cabin after,” he finished the last of his greens, “want to come with? We’ve got five hours until we head out.”

His eyes remained fixed on her person. If this wasn’t foreign territory, she didn’t know what was. “I’m _not_ a quick fuck.” She coloured and cursed at this horrid symptom of foot in mouth.

Shiro laughed loudly and drained his entire glass of water. “Thirteen going on twenty-five with little exposure to sex will do that to you. The benefit of being thirty without sexual restrictions really does help you see the world as is.”

Mataki buried her head in her hands. “Is it _that_ obvious?”

“Elli, among all of your compatriots, I think you’re the few among many that haven’t given...you _really_ want to hear this?”

She didn’t urge him on, nor did she make any effort to stop him.

“Alright, well, you haven’t quite accepted that the Council will never take – ”

She shot him a look of disbelief. “Is _that_ what you think this is? Me refusing any advances? You think I’m hung up on the Jedi Order?”

Out of nowhere, he grasped her wrist. But his clutch was gentle. “Just forget whatever I said. I’m sorry. Listen, I got something you need to see. You up for that tonight? And no, it isn’t what you think.”

She glanced outside; at ephemeral streaks left by the past and then back at him. “Yeah, alright.”

* * *

He directed her to his desk in his billet and she sat down. Leaning dangerously close to her, he slid out a panel at the desk’s center and pulled out a hidden terminal. The screen flashed and a soft blue beam conducted an iris scan.

“So what’s the big surprise?” asked Mataki.

He said nothing, but then activated by haptic sensors, he dug out a small image and enlarged it. “That’s the diagnostic rendering of our last battle at Thebes. Taken from the _Kirai_. This was made from some raw data; the version we were shown has been edited.” He then spoke straight to his console. “Reduce playback speed to point five.”

“You’re going to make me watch this entire thing? At half speed?”

“No,” he smiled, and steered her gaze toward the top left of the display. “I need your eyes there.” He played the video.

Mataki watched as thick laser fire lit up her view. But in slo-mo everything appeared to lose its urgency and brought with it a sense of cool detachment. She saw the interdictor vessel, Revan’s own _Kirai_ , materialize out of hyperspace with squadrons of gunships at its flanks. All ships from all sides began immediate engagement and carried out an eerie, fatal dance in the void.

As the chaos unfolded, a section of it – further away from the conflict – remained still. Until a small skiff manifested before her. Dwarfed by the larger capital ships, it would have been impossible to spot if Shiro hadn’t guided her to it.

Mataki leaned in and squinted. “A passenger ship?”

“I didn’t recognize the drive signature and I even ran a checklist on all our registries. That isn’t one of ours.”

“What the hell is it doing in the middle of a gunfight?”

“Hold and zoom in A two. Enhance scaling.” commanded Shiro, and the video paused. Image now magnified, she could see its durasteel-plated bulk, with turrets mounted to its sides. They were aiming ahead into the frozen cacophony. “You see it? Now watch. _Resume playback_.”

As small as it was, the skiff seemed a sinister presence that was made worse by the fact that it didn’t let off a single shot.

“Are their PDCs damaged?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like they’re...just _watching_.” She shuddered. “Why would they just watch? Why not simply redirect subspace arrays and observe remotely? I see that they’re kind of on the edge of it all, but they’re still in CQB range. One stray hit from that destroyer and it’d be curtains.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

A minute passed and then the skiff drifted off screen. Shiro stopped the feed. “Now, I want you to look at this.” He pulled up an image – this one being less cluttered and thankfully lacking any combat.

“Flight plans of our last ladar run. These are some of the asteroids we mapped near Malachor V.” Shiro zoomed in with his hand and rotated a three-dimensional rock for her benefit. “Asteroid J00021837H. See this little opening?” He pointed to a small canyon.

She saw a black mass of organized shape hidden in the crevice. “Holy _fuck_.” She glanced at him in incredulity. “What’s our skiff doing there?”

“Hiding, apparently.”

“From us?”

“Maybe.”

“How did you even catch this?”

He straightened. “I didn’t. One of my engineers did, with the help of one of his droids actually. Guy’s a savant. He once wrote a signal scrambling code in five minutes and then took control of an enemy’s autocannons.”

“Bao-Dur?”

“You know him?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I do. Bit of an introvert but is, by far, one of the nicest people I’ve met.”

The general sat on the edge of his bed and faced her. “So what do you think of all of it?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of his console.

“I don’t even know what to think right now. Could it be related to the Jedi that you ki – that died on Drackmar?” She rolled her chair closer to him.

“I wondered about that too. It seems like it’s the most plausible reason right now. The ship never engaged anyone as far as I can tell. They’ve adopted a wait-and-see approach.”

“It doesn’t look like a Mandalorian rig either, does it? But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re incapable of subterfuge. You tell anyone about it?”

“Sure did. Command isn’t too worried right now. No shots fired, no cause for concern. I think everyone’s a little too wrapped up in wondering what our next move against the Mandos is going to be.”

Mataki furrowed her brows and wandered off, deep in thought. When her eyes met his again, he was looking intently at her. It made her self-conscious, but she was surprised to find that she liked it. Shiro bent in and reached across to her face, his hand grazing her cheek lightly, and traced her outline down past her collar and to the back of her neck. He coaxed her forward and their lips met in between.

It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. The last time it happened was when she was fifteen and it had been a bit of a mortifying experience. Revan had gone off someplace, leaving her and Alek to wait for him among the masses at a shuttle depot. Somehow Alek had broached the subject of kissing _– had she ever done it?_ And, _what was it like?_ Her answer to those questions was no, and she didn’t know. He’d then suggested they try it out then and there, away from their disapproving elders, purely for scientific purposes. When they’d locked, it had been a mess of clashing teeth and tongues. And Mataki had found herself wondering if she’d even remembered to use mouthwash that day. Pulling away was much easier then, _so much_ easier than it was now.

Now there was heat everywhere and she seemed to have forgotten to breathe. He tasted good. He smelled good. How could anyone in their right mind want _this_ to end? He broke for air first, his hand still positioned at the base of her neck.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time.” he said finally.

“So all the videos, the images – that was just a ruse?” she grinned.

“If only.”

He slanted in again, but she pulled back; leaving only a sliver of space amidship. Her lips brushed his as she spoke. “This could be a really bad idea...”

“Mm. But we don’t know for sure, and there’s only one way to find out.”

He kissed her again and took hold of her wrists, leading her to the bed. She didn’t resist and in the span of a few seconds, her body lay on top of his as both pairs of hands wandered eagerly across undiscovered territory. He had her flight suit zipper in his fingers and was attempting to slide it down when the terminal on his desk chimed.

“Oh, come on – ” he muttered a sequence of Echani curses and flopped his head back onto the bed.

Mataki climbed off of him. “It’s probably important.”

“It had fucking better be.”

* * *

She sat at a bench in the shuttle bay and fiddled with the HUD settings in her flight helmet. Shiro had received a priority message from Alek – someone she didn’t really want to think about right then. She granted Shiro his privacy and took the lift down to bay four.

About thirty minutes later, he strode in and gone was any sign of their earlier liaison. It was all business now.

“Can’t join you on this run I’m afraid,” he began. “Top brass doesn’t really want a general hopping about scanning asteroids anymore. Even ones as important as these. Looks like you’ll have to real-time me some of that data after all. Kit’s on today’s roster too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And Abbala and Guntha.”

“Not anymore. It’s just you and Kit on this one.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“They don’t want word to get out about what we’re doing during these runs. There’s only so long we can play the LC’s-just-logging-in-some-flight-hours card before someone twigs it. Can’t say that I disagree with him. We’re getting close to the end now; I can feel it.”

It was a perfectly rational choice. Especially after the incident at Drackmar, security had tightened to a chokehold grasp and repercussions for any type of deviations from protocol were severe. All ladar and radar returns from the asteroids were encrypted and sent to Katsushiro, Alek, Revan and a few skilled engineers directly. Her old friend hadn’t even apprised her of his plans since they didn’t speak much anymore, but it didn’t take her too long to figure out that the _Galatea_ wasn’t just in Malachor V’s orbit to help refugees. These crevasse sweeps would prove to be excellent hiding places. Sneak a small, well-armed frigate in the gap, switch off everything but basic life support and you’d have a pretty good ambush primed and ready to go. Multiply the quantity of hidden fighters and _pretty good_ could jump up to _certain death_ for enemy vessels if torpedoes were on target.

The only problem was that she’d never heard of or overseen any simulations to prepare for this job. Revan was cutting it close to the wire if he hadn’t selected the best pilots and developed flight paths and maneuvers down to the letter. Very few objects in space remained at rest; most things were always in something else’s orbit. Knowing when to peek out of cover and attack would require careful planning, and she’d witness none of it. But then again, maybe he did have everything worked out. And he just hadn’t told her.

“I’ve marked a handful of rocks in your trajectory that look promising,” said Shiro. He handed her a datapad. “Information’s all in here. Didn’t want to risk a direct uplink.”

Mataki rose. “Got it.”

“Hey, listen. If you see that boat out there – that one that I showed you earlier? Don’t be a hero, okay? You high tail it out of there. That thing gives me a bad feeling and I don’t want you following it.”

“Are you saying this to me as my general or...?” The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

His eyes danced. “Both. And uh,” he scratched his brow awkwardly, “do you think a rain check for earlier...might lie in my future?”

Smiling broadly now, she threw a mock salute his way. “Aye, Sir. As you command, Sir. Three bags full, Sir.”

He observed her with uncertainty. “So, is that a yes...?”

She threw her head back and laughed as she walked away.

* * *

She firewalled the small fighter into the blackness and grinned. The vicinity turned into streams of light and her radio crackled.

“ _You planning on ground-pounding the **shit** out of your fighter?_”

“Just let me enjoy the force of another body up against my own, Kit.”

“ _Hell, if that’s all you’re looking for, I can easily oblige_.”

“Nah. G-forces don’t talk too much. They don’t smell, they don’t piss all over the toilet seat.”

“ _Bad break up?_ ”

“How’s Adrianne doing?”

“ _You’re rolling in with your hair on fire, and you’re asking **me** how my girlfriend’s doing?_”

“Just trying to get to know the locals.”

“ _How the **fuck** are you able to somersault around debris and carry on a straight conversation at the same time?_” His voice belied reverence and amusement. “ _Is this a Jedi thing?_ ”

“Hell if I know. So, how is she?”

“ _Second’s on the way. Dan’s getting to be a big tyke now that he knows he’ll play big-brother._ ”

“Fantastic. Any chance there’ll be a third?”

“ _If Revan and Alek can win this thing and we can all go home, then sure. Fuck yeah, there’ll be a third. And a fourth. And probably a fifth_.”

She grinned. “And you’ll name one after me?”

“ _Only if you agree to listen to the tunes I brought along for the ride_.”

“Anymore hick-town bullshit and I’m going to have to tune you out. Or blast you out of the skies.”

“ _ **Please**. I’m a connoisseur of the musical arts. I shall provide for you a fine assortment of tracks while ladar does her job, and you’ll be on your knees thanking me after_.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She steered her way on course, towards their asteroids of choice. Kit flipped on his playlist and she hummed along to his melodies; trying _not_ to count down the minutes until they got back.

* * *

The second time they crashed into each other, no chimes broke their concentration. Mataki had peeled off the jumpsuit prior to engagement and as Shiro stared at her body, she shoved him onto the bed. Everything down past her hips was on fire. He slid into her, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from crying out in pleasure, but she controlled it as best she could. No amount of reading or the telling-of-tales could have prepared her for it. It was as if logic had seceded control to all tactile senses and brought her to a point of wakefulness she’d never known. She bucked her hips against his; spurred on by his own moans. He ran his hands down past her breasts and onto her buttocks and sat there, on the cusp of ecstasy, allowing for her to come first.

She cried out, throwing her head back as she did so and dug her nails into his sides. His release came shortly after and they jolted against one another in symphony.

His heat still inside her, the pair touched foreheads.

“Let’s go again,” she mumbled.

“You wanna go again? I can do that.”

“Is this what everyone calls a good fuck?”

“Dunno. A fuck exists sans love. I think. Never really known it.”

“What’re you saying?”

He caressed her curves with his thumb. “Shouldn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

She lowered her head to his own – lips stroking his ear. “I want to go again.”

He more than eagerly indulged her.

* * *

**1 month before deployment of the mass shadow generator**

Mataki marched past the durasteel corridor and slammed the security scanner hard with a clenched fist.

It had been a debilitating few weeks. Shiro had left – relinquishing rank and title. He’d been her confidante, her friend, her lover. But this path that Revan and his Republic had chartered was drifting rapidly off course, and the burden on his conscience proved to be too much. He held honour in the highest regard; even higher than his love for her. In the beginning he’d asked her to join him. They were skirting dangerously close to ethical bankruptcy – a debt that could only be satisfied by bringing the dead back to life. She understood the gravity of his warnings, but committed to nothing. And after that first request, he never asked again. Perhaps he knew her better than she knew herself.

When he left, he gave her a polished circle of tiger’s eye, and told her that it contained a tracker that led to him. He was going rock-hopping for a while, in an effort to help people without renouncing his morals. If she ever changed her mind, she was to come find him. She wanted to cast the stone into the ship’s reactor, but stuffed it in the farthest corner of a drawer. After several nights spent on tear-soaked pillows, she pulled it out, attached it to a brown string and slipped it around her neck.

Patience tethered to her only by a single thread, it took nothing more than a mild prod to push her to her breaking point. When she’d found out what Revan, the man she’d considered a brother, was preparing to do, she recognized that Shiro was right. And after she confronted Revan, she would tender her own resignation and start anew elsewhere – with Shiro. He was the solitary light in her darkness now, and she yearned to be with him again.

Doors parted with a pneumatic hiss and she locked her eyes on the figure staring out into the void.

“You son of a bitch.” Her words pierced an eerie silence.

Revan turned; appraising her anger. He ran a hand through his almost-black-it-was-blue hair. “What? So no hug? No ‘ _I haven’t seen you in months, brother?_ ’”

“So your lure is more lives and the promise of a big fucking weapon?” She breathed hard. “I gotta say: that’s cheap. Even for you.”

The body to her left that she hadn’t seen but knew was never far off, spoke. “We don’t have many choices.” came the equally charismatic Alek.

“And _you_ ,” a sarcastic smile played off her lips, “ _you_ let him do this.”

“We don’t have the numbers, Elli. Sooner or later, the Mandalorians are gonna figure it out.” Revan’s grey eyes studied hers, and she wasn’t certain if such scrutiny was due to an overabundance or caution of relief.

She found out that she didn’t care. “These intel leaks? The ones where you’ve hinted at an omnipotent device? You should have leaked that they were on an uninhabited rock.”

“They wouldn’t bite if he did,” said Alek.

Ignoring him, she directed reason at the man who used to be her friend. Her brother. “You have thrusters and ships planted in those asteroids. _Use them_. Don’t use the people we swore to protect. They’ll die if you do. Do you get what I’m saying? An entire planet will be wiped out for the sake of this plan of yours. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen bodies floating out there. Arms wrapped around loved ones even after they got spaced. But that time? It was the Mandalorians who did it. This time it’s us. Are we the bad guys, or are we the good guys, Revan? I can’t tell anymore.”

“Their fleet stretches out from beyond the rim. They torch anything that they can’t use, and they’ve got multiple races joining the cause. Their numbers grow by the day.” Alek stood up to face her. “And what do we have? A smattering of renegade Jedi and a severely burned-out navy.”

“I’m sorry,” she launched a contemptible gaze in his path. “I didn’t get the memo where we win by any means necessary. Did you _just_ send that out?”

Revan came around his console and leaned against it. Placating rising tempers, he spoke. “You’re not wrong, Elli. And if you have any brighter ideas and strategies to avoid a pyrrhic victory? I’m all ears.”

“Man the capital ships with a skeleton crew. Then whittle away at Mandalorian shields with the biggest dogfight you can muster. You can modify some of our fighters with radar jamming tech; give us better odds of survival. Then come in around with the _Kirai_ and finish them off.”

“Mandalore isn’t going to stick his neck out based on rumour alone. He’ll send out his best scouts, and the minute they get a whiff of deceit, we’d lose. It has to be _real_ , Elli. Not just _look_ real. A lie is at its most convincing when wrapped around a truth.”

“Then we should wait. Bide our time until a more suitable option presents itself.”

Alek snorted. “That’s not going to happen until a new galaxy comes into being, and we’re all chalk in our graves.”

“Leave it,” directed Revan to his closest confidante. He swung his head to Mataki. “While you may not believe it, I don’t want this any more than you do. We’ve been stripped, Elli. All of us. Stripped of skin and muscle and now we’re down to our bones. If we want Mandalorian-free systems, we’re going to have to sacrifice.”

“I saw the fucking crew roster, you jackass.” She moved up to him; her face mere inches from his own. She pointed emphatically at her side. “All these Jedi and Republic soldiers you’ve got assigned to the _Kuno_ and _Kirai_ are people you don’t trust. They’re _your_ eggs in _your_ basket. And all it’ll take is one well-placed shot.”

“I’m not going to pull the trigger on this until I have your approval. I can't do it alone."

A hollow laugh rung out from her end. “Fat chance of that.”

"You remember Ploorid III? Remember that game we were going to play with them before the attack? You recall how I promised him, and we even shook on it?" remarked Revan; his voice low.

_How could she forget?_

He went on as Alek observed this psychological altercation as a stranger. "And then Kuno shook Kirai to get her to wake up. She shook her shoulder eleven times. Then you rode off to distract those _animals._ I had the kids in front of me and I won’t forget how they clung to each other. How they clung to _me_. You know what that’s like? When you're holding onto something solid and precious, and then someone blinks and turns it to ash? I can still _feel_ them, and I don’t even have to try very hard."

She shook her head. _Don't do this_.

“Hold out your hand."

Mental bulwark starting to falter, she managed to defy him by letting her hands hang limply by her sides. Revan moved to her with conceding consideration and clasped her wrist, pulling her hand up. He gently unclenched gripping fingers and placed a black object in her palm. Fingers ran over elaborate carvings. She didn’t have to look down to know what it was.

“If I don’t do this, there’ll be more Kirais. More Kunos, more broken boys like Girl. It will never end. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could take it. If I have to sacrifice my _soul_ for it to stop, I will.”

She closed her eyes and allowed them to stay shut for several moments. Exploding memories landed – scattering all thoughts of reason. “Will this be it?” The small voice that emerged seemed to belong to another person entirely.

“How do you mean?”

“You give up our friends and a planet full of people, and it’ll stop there? Even if we lose?”

With a regretful smile, Revan proceeded. “If we lose, and I'm tragically still alive, I don’t think I'd have the strength to keep breathing for long. I'll blow away and you'll never have to see me again.”

* * *

**Launch**

When the _GRN Kirai_ exploded; discharging debris across a violent radius, Mataki had to dial down their cries. She’d felt Clarisse Benayoun’s vacuum through the Force, as thoughts unfurled to the woman’s daughter and husband. _They’re dead. Gone now. Worth it?_ She staggered forward, hoping her contemporaries and underlings hadn’t noticed.

She passed several small fires in the midst of containment. Soft lights that substituted for tertiary warnings flashed against her peripheral vision. Brushing through smoke and acrid metal, she moved forward.

Revan and a great many others had dared to hope that Mandalore would force them into direct confrontation. She hadn’t held her breath; which was why she had no problems exhaling when his ship was picked up on radar. Revan’s mobile asteroid field served two purposes. One was to feign numbers. A multitude of choice explosions helped simulate rear attacks. And what their intended destruction couldn’t accomplish was finished off by fully sapient pilots. Each executed move shifted their intended target into place.

She sat by her commconsole for what seemed like an eternity, hands clasped together and summoned to her lips. Counting down for the umpteenth time while issuing simultaneous ultimatums to herself, her heart begged rationale to walk away.

“General?” approached a soft-spoken voice. “We can’t sit on the directive forever.”

“I...don’t think I can do this.”

“We could transfer control to your XO,” he ventured.

“The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.”

“Common parlance is vague, General. _Must_ can easily switch to could, and _could_ could easily switch to _maybe_...and be handed off in the appropriate direction. Do what you have to, to see this through.”

“It’s just that...” she was interrupted by another sunk lambda-class shuttle that blipped off screen. “I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths anymore. I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this. But it has, hasn't it?"

“You won’t be alone. I’ve got to green light this too.”

The Iridonian looked equally on edge – and the distressing feeling he radiated made her feel as if she was looking into a mirror.

“Maybe he’ll board Mandalore’s ship and it’ll all be over soon.”

“He may have. And he may have even killed him by now. But he needs to decimate their fleet before anyone can pick up Mandalore's helm and carry on the fight. This was coming either way; it’s only been a question of when.”

 _“For Kirai. For Kuno. For_ _Girl._ _Let_ _me be brave, let me be brave,_ ” the incantation was quiet, and meant for none other than herself. And then, more loudly, this time for Bao-Dur's benefit: “When it needs doing, better that it be done quickly. Isn't that how it goes?”

Mataki and the Iridonian engineer held their terminals aloft; thumbs poised above pulsing buttons.

“I didn’t think we could lose,” said Mataki, as they deployed the weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to the obvious and hefty nod to George RR Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series, I also threw in several nods to one of the best contemporary sci-fi works I've read: The Expanse. I love me some Roci and her crew.


End file.
